The Princess Bride: Underland Style
by roughdiamond5
Summary: S. Morgenstern's classic tale of true love and high adventure, retold by the characters of the Underland Chronicles. After Code of Claw. Be prepared for a few surprises...
1. Chapter 1

The Reader sat slumped in a chair, searching through an archive of fanfiction on a laptop. It hadn't been a very exciting day, and so the Reader thought some entertainment was in order. Now, to choose a good enough story…

A knock echoed through the empty room that the Reader sat in. Before the Reader could respond, the door to the room opened, and a girl entered with a laptop carried like a book against her hip.

"Hi there," she said, and smiled at the Reader.

The Reader raised an eyebrow. "Hi. Who are you?"

"I'm the Writer. I saw you were looking for something good to read, and I thought I might volunteer a story of my own. Well, sort of my own, anyways."

"Is it any good?"

"Sure it is. Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Revenge. Giants. Monsters. Chases. Escapes. True love. Miracles. Does that sound like 'any good'?"

The Reader shrugged and closed the laptop. "I'll try to stay awake."

"Thanks, Reader. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming." The Writer rolled her eyes, smiled, and sat on a chair opposite the Reader. She opened her laptop and cleared her throat.

"Wait, why did you just call me Reader?"

"Because you are," the Writer said.

"You're reading this aloud to me. Wouldn't that make me, like, the Listener?"

"Readers, listeners…they're both audiences, aren't they? And I don't particularly care to call you an audience, so you're the Reader. Now, would you let me read?"

The Reader blinked and decided not to comment on the Writer's slight insanity.

"'The Princess Bride—Underland Style'," the Writer read, "'with _The Underland Chronicles _by Suzanne Collins, _The Princess Bride_ by William Goldman, and the combination of the two by the Writer. The Writer does not own either _The Underland Chronicles_ or _The Princess Bride,_ and credits all ownership and profits to their respective authors/geniuses. Chapter One: Gregor had lived in Virginia for as long as he could remember…'"

* * *

Gregor had lived in Virginia for as long as he could remember, which wasn't very long at all. Most of his memories started at about age eleven, when he moved to his uncle's house with his parents and two sisters. His parents were both very sick, and his sisters were always making up stories and asking him to get into them. Gregor thought these stories were to repress the grief the girls felt that their grandma had died, so he didn't question it too much.

He'd decided to go to New York City—the place he'd moved from—for college. He figured they offered a really good scholarship, so why not? He was an incredible sports player, and most of his teammates turned to him for advice. He didn't exactly know how to explain instinct, but he showed them what he did and wound up very popular as almost every member on any sports team was trying to figure out his secret.

There was, however, a slight catch to this college plan. The only apartment Gregor could afford that was even remotely close to his college was the apartment that he used to live in, the apartment his parents advised he never enter again. But what choice did he have? He needed to be close to the field, and he just didn't feel right living in a dorm where everyone would soon know how mysteriously talented he was at sports. So the weekend after he graduated from high school, he packed up his clothes and drove up to New York with his parents.

Now, Gregor felt a sort of déjà vu upon arrival at his old apartment. The only neighbor he remembered, Mrs. Cormaci, had passed away when he was still in Virginia, so nearly every face was unfamiliar. He did, however, keep glancing around as if expecting something to pop out of the walls. In fact, the walls almost felt like they were breathing, watching him.

It must have freaked out his parents a little as well, because they drove home almost the minute they had helped Gregor unpack. Mom did have to get back to her job, they said. But Gregor could see the looks they cast around the apartment. He shrugged it off. It had been a long trip, he was tired, and it was almost nighttime. He ordered a pizza for dinner and was about to set up his blankets on the floor when he noticed opened the box and realized that the top blanket was stained brown and sopping wet, seeping into the clothes underneath it.

Gregor grumbled to himself. Mom had spilled her coffee on the box with his blankets. Rolling the wet blanket up and setting it under his arm, he stomped down the stairs and to the depths of basement, otherwise known as the laundry room. He prayed that no one closed it overnight.

Luck was with him for that, though, and he was able to toss the blankets into the washing machine in complete solitude. He fed the machine quarters and was just about to go upstairs and grab another slice of his pizza and a college brochure, when he heard it.

It was a short intake of breath, like someone stifling a sob. The noise paused, and then echoed once more throughout the basement.

"Hello?" Gregor called out hesitantly. The sound halted, right in the middle of another sob. At the end of the row of dryers, a piece of cloth slid behind the white metal. Gregor stepped over to find—

A girl. A girl no older than he, with the palest skin he had ever seen. It was as if she was a walking circulatory system, from all the veins of blood he could see. Her hair, a mixture of silver and blonde, had a small compressed part at the crown of her head, as if a band had been there for many years and removed only recently. And before she hid her eyes from him and crouched closer to the dryer, he realized her eyes were violet.

"Hey," he said, crouching down to her eye level. He noted a scar on the side of her face, running down from the temple of her head to the tip of her chin. Okay then. "Hey, Scar Girl," he said, trying to get her attention. "Are you okay?"

The girl lifted her head to meet his gaze. Through the tears, something stirred inside her violet eyes, something like a mixture of recognition and hope...and something else Gregor couldn't name.

"My name's Gregor," he said. "What are you doing all by yourself?"

The girl didn't answer. That something in her eyes had gone. Another few tears trickled down her cheeks as she tried to regain control of herself. Her chin stuck out, an almost natural position for her. She looked to be defiant.

"Look, if you're not going to talk to me, maybe you should go home," Gregor tried.

The girl shook her head. The defiance came stronger.

"Maybe a friend's house?"

She shook her head again.

"Well you can't stay here."

Now she just stared.

Gregor sighed. Defiant as she was, tears still tore at her eyes, and he could tell there was something much more problematic than the fact that she was in a laundry room at nine at night with no belongings of any sort.

"Tell you what," he said. "Maybe I won't tell anyone you're here, and you can stay here all night or whatever you want. But you can't get in trouble, okay?"

"As you wish," she murmured.

Gregor did a double take. That accent only added to the déjà vu of this whole apartment, the weird feeling in his gut that something monumental had happened in this building. Or near it, anyways. Oh well. He offered his hand.

"Come on then, Scar Girl."

They waited for his blanket to be washed first, Gregor trying to pry information out of her all the while. She kept giving him these strange glances whenever he tried to guess what had happened, as if she didn't know about half of what he was talking about. And Gregor could tell she couldn't believe he couldn't get it right. Finally, when his blanket had finished drying and he was ready to leave, he grumbled, "I bet you won't even tell me your name, will you?"

"Luxa."

Gregor looked at her oddly. There was that accent again, but he didn't think it was the accent that added to the eeriness of all this. That name intrigued him so much, stirred something inside him that just wouldn't go away. Enough that he made an offer:

"What if I let you in my apartment tonight? I mean, if you don't steal anything," he added. "You can help me unpack or something. Okay?"

"As you wish."

Luxa followed him upstairs and to his room, where he set out another few blankets for her in the middle of an empty bedroom. He slept in the kitchen with his things. The next morning, he reheated pizza for the both of them, and started the day with, "Okay, Scar Girl, we need to unpack today."

"As you wish."

Gregor wondered if, if she was going to take such a formal tone, he should call her Luxa. It'd mean she could be casual with him. But no, he liked Scar Girl a lot better. It didn't give him nearly as bad a feeling as "Luxa" did. He didn't want to think this "Luxa" name was a very important detail that he had forgotten, like he seemed to have forgotten the rest of this life in New York. So "Scar Girl" she was, and Gregor liked it that way.

That day of unpacking turned into two months of Scar Girl staying at Gregor's apartment as he worked a summer job. Even if his scholarship was paid in full, Gregor still needed furniture; he needed groceries; he needed textbooks; he needed rent and utilities and all those things he'd never thought about buying until all the finances depended on him.

And he needed Scar Girl, as much as he ignored her. He never introduced her to anyone; the one time he tried to take her out for Chinese food, she suffered a sunburn (at _twilight_, Gregor thought exasperatedly) that kept her lying on the couch for two days. But she hardly said a word, then or otherwise. He'd tried several times to start a conversation, to compare colleges, to ask where she'd come from and where she'd gotten that scar. But she clammed up most often, if clamming up meant going to one's room and staring out the window at the traffic.

So Gregor decided: if she wanted to stay, fine. She'd leave if she wanted to, that he knew. But if she wanted him to pay for her to live there, she was going to have to help out. So she was the one who microwaved dinner and cleaned the windows and searched online for his school supplies (once he showed her how to use Google—and seriously, who didn't know how to use Google?). He'd taken to adding Scar Girl to everything, just because it seemed about the only way she would respond.

"Scar Girl, I need you to find me some basketball shoes. I'm a size ten."

"Scar Girl, clean the kitchen floor. I'm going to be late."

"Scar Girl, call the doorman and tell him the elevator broke again."

And all Scar Girl would say was, "As you wish." Not another person interacted with her besides Gregor, and they both rather liked it that way. Scar Girl didn't have to go into the sunlight and get strange looks at her skin, and Gregor could avoid questions about why a girl he never talked about was living in his apartment. That, and this was the first time he could remember where he didn't have to do a single chore around the apartment.

Until the day that Gregor woke up, headed down to the basement with Scar Girl carrying the basket of clothes, and found an elderly woman with the same skin, hair, and eyes as Scar Girl. The elderly woman turned towards the two when she heard their footsteps in the concrete stairwell, and smiled when they froze at the door.

"Luxa," she beamed. "It is such a pleasure to see you once more."

Luxa's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back.

Gregor looked between the two. "Uh…hi," he said. "Can I help you?"

The elderly woman's eyebrows rose. She still spoke to Luxa. "Have you been with him this entire time?"

"It is of no concern to you," Luxa murmured. Her eyes appeared to be on fire, contrasting with the elderly woman's soft violet ones.

"Oh, but I wish I had known," the woman said, walking through the aisle of washing machines and dryers until she stood in front of the two. "We have missed you, Luxa. Your family has worried greatly for your disappearance."

"You are no family of mine," Luxa spat. "And it was no disappearance."

"Regalia needs you, Luxa."

Luxa looked about ready to retort, but something caught her. And Gregor, too. As he froze, Luxa dropped the laundry basket, turned on her heel, and ran up the stairs.

With just her and Gregor left, the elderly woman seemed to have no other business left. "I will return to see you once more," she said with a smile, "Gregor."

Gregor frowned. This just got odder and odder, and he didn't like the feelings of déjà vu that hadn't gotten stronger until now. The woman turned, walked to the end of the aisle of washing machines and dryers, crouched down, and did not emerge. It was like she'd just fallen through the floor.

Gregor intended to investigate, but the sight of Luxa running away appeared in his mind. With the spare key he had given her, she had likely returned to the apartment. But what about that woman would make her run away so suddenly? If she hadn't run from him in two months, there must really be something about this smiling, somewhat creepy woman that wanted her more than Gregor ever wanted her.

He started up the stairs, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. This woman had wanted to take away Luxa. He couldn't bear to call her Scar Girl at the moment, now that she had a voice and a personality and a past—and a very unpleasant past at that. It must have been something, really something, if she ran away from a woman and family that seemed to need her.

Oh, why did they need her? It wasn't curiosity that gnawed at him. Something further. He closed his eyes in a sigh—

And saw Luxa running away.

Luxa, leaving him and his apartment empty, forever. After he'd given her a room and food and a spare key. It wasn't anger that boiled in his veins. Something more. He closed his eyes again, willing the image of Luxa leaving to disappear—

But Luxa still left.

He stifled it, but the moan came out. And in that moan, in that stairwell, it hit him. And suddenly he had to run up the stairs, run into the open-door apartment, run up to Luxa's room, and bang at the door.

Luxa opened it, dry-eyed and somewhat resigned to the emotions she had faced a few minutes ago. She stared at him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I have no idea how it happened, or why I realized it now, or why it chose you, or why I love you—no, wait, I think I know that. Your eyes are incredible, Luxa—and I've never called you that, right? Well, I will now. Luxa, Luxa, Luxa, is that good? I could say it all the time if you want, ten thousand for every time I called you 'Scar Girl.' I love your scar, and your hair right next to it. I always wondered how you hardly need to shower and it's still so…like that. And I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to go after that woman because you need to stay right here with me. I'll do all the chores and the cleaning and the online shopping if you want, if you stay. Just say you will, because I love you, Luxa, I do. Just say you do too, and we can forget that woman and go to a new apartment, and I won't ever take you out into the sunlight. Or maybe we can do it a few times and have dates. Just say you love me too. Please, Luxa?"

Luxa stared.

And blinked.

And shut the door.

Gregor stood at the door dejectedly, wondering whether or not he was supposed to keep trying. But no, suddenly all the breath that he had lined up to talk whizzed out of him, and it was all he could do not to collapse on his way to the couch. He lied on his back, his arm over his eyes, and cried. He didn't really mean to, but the last couple of minutes had been rather stressing on him. Especially when he had just figured out that he'd loved Luxa from the moment he heard her sniff in the laundry room, and that was why he let her live in his apartment and he spent half his money on her. He'd even given her chores just to keep her around.

Yes, well, this had been a chain of epiphanies.

Why wouldn't she even say anything back? She could have said "no." Or "sorry," she could have said that too. Even that would have been better than a door in Gregor's face. But no, she responded with just that.

Luxa entered the living room and sat on the floor in front of him.

"Oh, Scar Girl," Gregor said, drying his eyes with his sleeve. "Sorry about that joke and everything. I thought you might have needed it, after you ran away from that woman, but I think you might have actually believed me. But you have to admit, it was a little funny, right?"

"I am leaving."

"Wait, what?" Gregor sat up on the couch. Finding this to be not good enough, he fell off of the couch and sat on the floor in front of Luxa.

"I said that I am leaving."

"Well, that's great. Because, you know, I didn't love you or anything."

"That is quite a shame, because I do love you."

"Really?" All pretenses were dropped. "Seriously, Luxa? But…but you never said anything."

"I did, Gregor, but you have never heard it. The entire time I told you, 'As you wish,' I was actually telling you that I love you." Something lit up her eyes: the same light he had seen when she first looked at him. It was a look of love. "You must truly have lost much of your hearing over the years, Gregor, because I have said it so many times that I have lost all count."

"Wait, wait. I'm still getting over you saying my name."

"Do you want to hear it again? Gregor. It is not so hard to say, but you seem to have had a hard time saying my name."

"But if you saying 'as you wish' meant you loved me, why can't me calling you 'Scar Girl' mean I love you?"

"It does not matter to me." Luxa shrugged.

"Well, I love you."

"I have wanted to hear that for a very long time."

"I'll say it again. I swear, I will."

"Do your worst."

Gregor wanted to—he really did—but instead he simply leaned forward and kissed her. Normally, this would be a momentous occasion, something to celebrate and smile upon when reflecting old times, or perhaps to laugh about when you realize you did something completely wrong. But this kiss redefined all momentous occasions, and not one person could laugh at it, because they simply melted into each other, as long-lost lovers are wont to do. Not that Gregor knew, and not that Luxa cared.

An hour and several "I love you"s later, Luxa stood in a raincoat, hat, sunglasses, and a puddle of sunscreen, with Gregor at her side. They both stared at a rock in the middle of Central Park.

"You have to go under that?" Gregor asked.

"I do."

"I don't think I understand."

"I knew you would not. I will explain everything one day. But for the moment, unfinished business awaits me in the Underland."

"The Underland?"

"The world beneath this rock."

"Right," Gregor said, though she could have said nothing and it would have made as much sense.

"I will send word in seven days. Look in the grate at the floor of the laundry room for my letters. If I cannot write, I will send word to a friend, who will explain for me. If Sandwich allows, you may follow me one day, and I will show you the Underland."

Gregor ignored her mention of a sandwich. "And I can help you with the things you have to do?"

"Yes."

"You're going to have to tell me sometime what you're supposed to do, you know."

"I know this," Luxa said, and gave him half a smile. "Now come and help me move this boulder."

Together they pried the boulder from its position—if it was metal, Gregor would call it rusted to the ground—and soon they stared into a deep hole in the middle of Central Park. Luxa slipped into it without a second thought, and handed her coat, hat, and sunglasses to Gregor.

"Come back soon," Gregor said, and kissed the top of her head.

"As you wish," Luxa said, and helped Gregor close the boulder over the entrance that would separate them for what felt like an eternity to Gregor.

Gregor went straight to work, trying to act normal at his job, but secretly squirming. It had hardly been an hour, yet he was considering running home and checking the laundry room for messages because it felt so much like a week had gone by. He knew he ought to be signing up for college orientation, but Luxa captivated his mind every time he tried to focus on anything besides her.

A week passed, and then two. No word from Luxa. Gregor considered sleeping in the laundry room a few times, and did once, but forced himself to bed when the janitor woke him up rather rudely. Though Gregor's love never changed—grew perhaps, expanded perhaps, strengthened perhaps, but never changed—his worry soon overcame all but that love.

One day, just as Gregor had turned the page to one of his textbooks while sitting on the floor of the laundry room, a rolled-up piece of parchment slipped into the grate. He pounced on it, unrolling it so quickly it almost ripped.

The words registered in his mind. The Dread Pirate Roberts. Famous for no survivors. Luxa missing. Assumed dead.

Gregor left his textbooks and the laundry room, completely dry-eyed but clenching the sheet of paper as if it was Luxa's spirit flying into the heavens. His eyes could not leave the words alone. He didn't care who had written it—no matter that the paper was unsigned and anonymous—so long as it wasn't her signature.

The doorman stopped Gregor on his way upstairs. "Hey kid," the doorman said, "are you doin' okay?"

"I'm fine," Gregor said, his eyes still trained on the paper. "But I can't ever love again."

He never did.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," the Reader interrupted. "You made _Gregor_ the girl? He's Buttercup?"

The Writer looked up from her computer, mildly amused. "Well…yes and yes."

"But you're not allowed to do that. He's, like, a _boy._"

"Well yeah, I know," the Writer responded. A moment of silence followed.

"So do something," the Reader said.

"No, thank you. I sort of like it this way." The Writer smiled and looked back to her laptop screen. "And now to introduce my Prince Humperdink…"

"Whoever it is, Gregor better not wear a wedding dress," the Reader grumbled.

"You're still upset about that?" The Writer sighed and set aside her laptop. "Look, I know this is really sort of weird. But what fun would it be, really, if we just followed the same old story? I bet you only want to see who was who in this whole thing. I think it'd be a lot more fun to switch things up."

The Writer, not knowing the Reader's preference of pairings, decided not to assure the Reader that Gregor wasn't going to marry to some male character, no matter how demented she made her stories otherwise.

Instead, the Writer tried a different approach. "Besides, you can't honestly tell me that Luxa will sit around waiting to be rescued for the entirety of the story."

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly."

"But Gregor's the _guy,_ he has to—"

The Writer gave the Reader a look that said "are you kidding me?"

The Reader sighed. "So who's Humperdink, then?"

The Writer shrugged and closed her laptop. "Well, I don't know. It doesn't really look like you're interested in this whole thing. Maybe I'll just keep it to myself. Or Alsarnia can give me a hand, and we can laugh together at who I picked to play Inigo Montoya. You just stay here and have fun with Gregor saving the day." The Writer then made to get up from her chair.

The Reader held a hand out to stop the Writer, and said the first thing that came to mind: "If I review, will you give me the next chapter?"

The Writer turned and half-grinned. "That's normally how it works around here. Tell you what. I'm going to get a cup of hot chocolate. I'll give you the next chapter when I return—that is, if you still want to see Gregor play a girl's part. And if you want to review while I'm gone…hey, I won't stop you."

The Reader watched as the Writer left the room, laptop in hand, without a second glance back. A box labeled "Reviews" with a little slit at the top appeared where the Writer had been sitting, with a pencil and a pad of sticky notes next to it. The Reader looked around, paused in thought, and then sighed, getting up to fill out a sheet of paper.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mm hmm," the Writer said as she examined the Reviews box with a smirk.

"What?" the Reader asked.

"Three reviews, huh? That's pretty good. I'm just smiling because I would have updated whether or not you reviewed.

"…Wait, what?"

"It's not like I intend to keep this story captive, you know. I like it too much for that. As much as your input is nice—especially constructive criticism—I really want to post this. So," the Writer said while grabbing her laptop, "let's get started, shall we?"

"…Okay?"

* * *

Princess Stellovet was a small young woman with hair that glistened in the light, hands so small and delicate that she couldn't hold a sword, and eyes so fierce that no one dared question her title as a princess.

Of course, she wasn't really a princess. But after the last war, in which a rather nasty Bane had been fought, she believed that if her cousin couldn't keep her own people from war—in fact, she had started it!—then someone else had better take charge soon. Over the years, her cousin had made no visible progress in any relations with gnawers or repairing of Regalia. When enough time had passed, Stellovet figured there was no better "someone" than herself to lead the humans. Her dear grandmother agreed.

Stellovet thought of herself as a visionary and a savior, nothing short of wonderful. It was true that with her grandfather paralyzed, her father leading the Fount, her brother Howard yearning to be a doctor, and her cousin woefully incompetent, Stellovet had less trouble by comparison in leading the humans of the Underland. It ought to be considered awfully diplomatic of Stellovet, then, to arrange a mission for cousin Luxa, her bond Aurora, and her brother Hazard. What a shame that they never returned.

Well, her grandmother had called it a mission, anyways. Her grandmother had also hinted about the gnawers that would be waiting for them on that mission. Rogue gnawers they were, too, gnawers that still opposed Luxa for all she hadn't done.

When there had been no sign of Luxa or her companions for a few days, Stellovet and her grandmother began the second phase of their mission. Ripred the Peacemaker had to go. He wouldn't be disposed of by sheer force or ambush. No, he had to choose to leave, by himself. Stellovet's grandmother took care of that too; she had the advantage of being thought dead, anyways. All she had to do was threaten the gnawer, remind him of the scar she had given him and how she could do far worse than that…

Self-banished to the Dead Lands, Ripred the Peacemaker no longer stood between Stellovet and full power. The third phase required only a pleading look from Stellovet, and her mother, Susannah, agreed almost instantaneously to take place as the temporary queen, with her father and Stellovet's grandfather, Vikus, as the king. And since Howard, the eldest child, had no desire to wear a crown—and stated it clearly—this made Stellovet…

A princess.

Stellovet smirked to herself, quite a common action. She smirked at everyone, certain that her beauty was unmatched, her position was unrivaled, and her future power was limitless. Her grandfather would have to die soon—considering that he was half paralyzed—and then her mother would no longer have the title of queen, as the council had agreed that she would have power only as long as Vikus did. Therefore, Stellovet would step up to the crown as the most eligible person in the Underland.

A cough resonated from behind Stellovet. Seated by the window looking out to all of Regalia, she turned and saw her grandmother.

"Solovet." She smiled. "How are you?"

* * *

"_Solovet?_" the Reader exclaimed. "What's she doing alive? I thought this was after the Code of Claw!"

"Relax," the Writer said. "I was just about to explain. And besides, in the book, did you ever see her actually getting killed? Just like you never saw Ripred get killed, and he came back to life, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, and another thing, why did Ripred just leave like that?"

"Because there are some things even Ripred can't stand. Solovet's done terrible things, you know, just for the sake of war. Imagine what she'd do for the sake of power."

The Reader stared blankly. "But why is she helping _Stellovet_ anyway?"

The Writer sighed. "Just listen, will you?"

* * *

Solovet, lost for two weeks after the final battle with the Bane, had lost her bond and been stranded in a rather remote location. When she did return to Regalia, she returned silently, hoping to see what had happened after she was presumed dead. She didn't like what she saw. She would never have let the warrior leave, for one thing, and why was Luxa concentrating so much on rebuilding the city when there were gnawers to punish? Why did she not secure her power over the gnawers and the other species before focusing on a bunch of rubble?

Stellovet first found Solovet this way, fuming and upset. Stellovet expressed her agreement, and it was through this shared discontent that they assembled a plan over many years, a plan that Solovet carried out with much pleasure. She kept hidden, even though Stellovet now held the title of princess. Solovet had decided to wait until Stellovet was queen, when nothing could stop her; and besides, she had been busy.

"My experiments are coming along quite well," Solovet told her granddaughter. "Any enemies you have will quickly learn of your power over them. But I come not on the matter of torture."

"Oh?" Stellovet straightened.

"Your grandfather's health is failing."

Stellovet smirked.

"However, the council has been meeting and has decided on a condition you must agree to before you are crowned queen."

Stellovet's smirk deflated, to be replaced with a glower. "And what is this condition?"

"I am surprised you have not thought of it before, Stellovet. Every queen needs a king."

Stellovet turned to face the window once more and sighed. "I suppose this means I shall have to marry."

* * *

An hour later, Stellovet sat in the crown room with King Vikus and Queen Susannah. People were willing to overlook the fact that the queen was the king's daughter, because after all, no one could understand a word he said without her. Most everything Vikus said sounded like a mumble that only Susannah could interpret.

At that moment, Vikus spoke, intending to say that Stellovet had best find a king suitable to rule the Underland.

"What was that?" Stellovet asked.

"He said that any man would be quite lucky to have you for his bride," Susannah said. She knew her daughter preferred flattery before business.

"Thank you, Vikus. You look well today as well." Stellovet smirked.

Vikus coughed and then spoke once more, intending to say that few suitors were available, but it would be difficult to choose one of them.

"Again?" Stellovet asked.

"He said that suitors will be lined outside the palace in a matter of minutes when they discover you are eligible," Susannah said.

"Yes, but I do not want such a narrow selection of suitors. All I do want," Stellovet said, "is a man with an unrivaled amount of strength. I want people to look at my husband, their king, and know that no one will ever wage war against him, so strong and capable is he."

"We will review the list of suitors," Susannah said, "and we will see if we can find him for you."

"Please," Stellovet said, and made to leave. She stepped out of the door that only royalty was allowed to use, the one that happened to have a secret passageway in which Solovet hid. She could most often hear every word of these meetings in the throne room.

Solovet stepped from a hidden doorway, and before Stellovet could speak, her grandmother said with a grin: "He is found."

* * *

"The Overland, Solovet?" Stellovet raised an eyebrow. The flier beneath them panted as he rose to the portal that led to what Gregor the Overlander had long ago called a "laundry room". This flier was sworn to secrecy about Solovet not being dead. If Stellovet was crowned queen, his reward: the highest rank a flier could be bestowed. If he told anyone about Solovet, his punishment: immediate death.

"I promise you, this Overlander is as unmatched as you would like," Solovet said. "I have seen his muscles, his scars, the alertness in his eyes. He is an incomparable warrior, of this I am certain."

"Solovet, you must have truly been busy to travel to the Overland."

"It was only a minor difficulty that I had to oversee," Solovet said dismissively. "I visited him at about this time of day, so he must be there currently. Remember, he knows nothing of the Underland, so do not frighten him. Climb up."

With a nod and a grunt, Stellovet pulled herself through a small hole and into a concrete room with square white lights on the ceiling and white machines lining the walls. Stellovet straightened herself and caught the eye of one Overlander, a boy. No—a _man._ She glanced over the scars and the muscles hidden beneath his shirt. Her eyes widened. Solovet had not told her the exact truth. He was not _a_ warrior, but _the_ warrior.

But as quickly as her eyes had widened, they sharpened to match her usual smirk. She straightened her clothes and marched forward to meet with the warrior. Apart from straightening from the machine to face her, he didn't move.

"I am Princess Stellovet of the Underland, and you will marry me," she said.

"I'm Gregor, and I won't," he mumbled back.

"I am Princess Stellovet, and you cannot refuse me."

"I'm Gregor, and I just did."

"Refusal means death."

"You can't kill me."

"I can."

They stared at each other. Stellovet backtracked. "I am a princess, but I am surely not as bad as you think."

"I'm sure you're not, but the thing is, I fell in love once, and she died. I'm still upset about it."

"I did not say anything about love," Stellovet said with a frown.

"Isn't marriage supposed to be the same as love?"

"Not in my world. In the Underland, you have only to marry me because I am the princess and I want a strong man like you and I say you must. Love is nowhere in this."

Gregor paused. "I'm in college at the moment. My coach and my teachers are going to kill me if I don't show up."

"I will kill you if you do not come with me."

Gregor thought it over. He could live here in the Overland, with a meager apartment and no one to share it with, in order to make a living in who-knows-what. Or he could follow this odd girl to a place where he might have a smidgen of a hope of finding more about Luxa and her death. And he could live comfortably while he looked.

"I'm not ever going to love you, you know," he said.

"I would not want your love if I had it."

"Then I'll marry you."

* * *

Ever since Princess Solovet had escorted an Overland boy into the city of Regalia, the people had been warned that their beloved warrior did not remember anything. Some residents of the palace, while serving this Overlander, tried secretly to get him to remember. Some—Mareth, Perdita, Dulcet—even came out and asked Gregor the Overlander if he remembered them or Regalia at all. The answers were negative.

But regardless of whether or not he remembered, he _had_ saved Regalia, and so the people were very relieved to learn that he had returned. After Ripred the Peacemaker had mysteriously disappeared, they needed some form of security.

The council and King Vikus (with Susannah as translator) bickered, but eventually decided that Gregor the Overlander would be a fine match for the princess. Stellovet innocently suggested that the Overlander be made the new leader of a small patch of land outside the Fount where the leader had just died, thereby making Gregor the Overlander the leader of a group of people. All requirements for a king were therefore filled: he was intelligent, good with other species, and a leader, among other traits. And it didn't hurt that he had saved Regalia or that adulthood was treating his looks kindly.

Of course, none of this was known to the people, not until their Princess Stellovet called them all outside the palace walls to give a speech. They filled the streets, their chores forgotten for the day. This, after all, was an occasion where work could be forsaken.

A cheer resonated throughout the streets when Princess Stellovet stepped onto the wall and addressed the people below her. "My good people," she said in her loudest voice, "I despair to tell you that our good King Vikus' health is currently failing. There is, however, joy to be added to these times, for I have decided to take a husband." More cheering. "He knows little of the Underland, but I believe that you will know him and accept him. Perhaps you will even love him, as I have come to."

Gregor rolled his eyes as he waited to be introduced. Yeah, right. If Stellovet could love…

"Would you like to meet him?" Stellovet asked. The cheering almost drowned her out, and so she had to shout: "People of the Underland, I present to you your future king, Gregor the Overlander!"

Gregor stepped out from a guard's post on the wall and came to stand beside Stellovet, smiling and waving to a sea of fair-haired, violet-eyed people, all of whom stuck a dagger in his heart. He was never going to find anything about Luxa in this weird underground place full of giant animals, this weird place that they called the Underland.

His smile wavered, and Stellovet stuck her hand in his. It was warm, but to him it felt like ice because he could sense none of the love he knew Luxa's hand would have. At least he awoke from his thoughts enough to smile more and raise his and Stellovet's hands. The cheering must have echoed through the caves, with every person contributing to make the walls quake.

Except for one person. A figure in black stood at the top of one of the buildings, looking at the walls of the palace in the distance.

The figure in black stood silently, planning revenge as everyone else stood oblivious beneath.

* * *

Gregor had hitched a ride far enough from the heart of Regalia that he could take off his hat and not get many stares. He had been trying to find some sort of library in the city part of Regalia, seeing that the palace had nothing but tapestries and a room full of words on the walls. However, he'd forgotten that paper grew on trees, something rare around here. He tried to ask the citizens anything about Luxa, mimicking their accent so they wouldn't bow before their future prince and king (it'd happened before).

However, whenever he'd mentioned Luxa's name, sorrow had passed over the faces of everyone he asked. These people shook their heads and moved along, leaving Gregor to wonder if they didn't know or if they were forbidden to say anything about it.

But now he had wandered so far from the city that he came face to face with the walls that ended the city. Several feet down the wall, he saw a bit of vandalism. In large letters, red paint screamed: "_Death to Stellovet._"

Gregor stood at the foot of the wall, glancing over the words and wondering why a person would do that. He doubted anyone that lived this far out here would have met Stellovet, so why would they have a reason to hate her? Not that he thought Stellovet was that great a person. He hardly knew her; she was so busy with wedding preparations and some top secret thing involving "gnawers" (which he knew to be giant rats), so she hadn't even noticed he left. Gregor didn't know if he was supposed to be upset or not.

"Have you ever seen the other side?"

Gregor turned and saw three figures: two giant rats (gnawers, the Underlanders called them) and a giant bat (a flier). One of the rats stepped forward with a smile on its face, clearly the one that had spoken with such a velvety tone. It struck Gregor as odd that this rat had smiled more at him in a second than Stellovet had in a week.

"No, never have," Gregor said with a smile of his own, forgetting that he looked like an Overlander to them. "At least, I've never been on the ground. What about you?"

"Oh, I've seen quite a lot over there. In fact, we're a bit confused as to how we got in here." The rat—a female—gestured to her companions. "Do you know which way is to the Waterway?"

Gregor shook his head.

"Is there anyone here who can tell us?"

"I think we're the only ones here," Gregor said, scanning the fields that people worked on in the distance.

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream," the rat said. She gestured, and the second rat charged for Gregor and knocked him on the head. Gregor collapsed before he could draw in the breath to yell.


	3. Chapter 3

The Reader, having returned from a short break, noticed the Writer sitting and typing furiously on her laptop, and decided to approach her.

"Heeeeeey, Writer…roughdiamond5…you," the Reader started with. "I can't believe I only gave one review for your last chapter, after all the, uh, funny stuff you said. And there was so much I really wanted to say because I read that last part, where Gregor got kidnapped by the two rats and the bat. I'm really worried about Gregor, and maybe you could tell me who took him so I could—"

"Twirltongue, the Bane, and Ares," the Writer said, not looking up from her computer screen.

"Wait, huh?"

"Sure," the Writer said and glanced up to look at the Reader with knowing eyes. "Probably the only reason you came back was to see who was who, right? Well, you got your answer." The Writer returned to her computer.

The Reader stood there for a moment. "But…it's not that. It's that…look, did you even _read_ Code of Claw?"

The Writer sniffed. "I've read that and at least three revisions of it. I even wrote my own version of the end for English class—"

"That's not the point. I mean, Twirltongue, Ares, the _Bane?_ They're all dead! Next you're going to tell me Twitchtip's alive too, right?"

The Writer paused, fighting the urge to curse. The truth was that she had been considering giving her favorite scent-seer a small role a few chapters ahead. "Well, you didn't see her die, did you?" she returned. "Just like with Ripred and Solovet. Maybe she was faking being dead before she ran away."

"So? How do you explain the Bane being stabbed or Ares' throat being torn out or Twirltongue's _head_—"

"Look, just calm down, calm down…" The Writer got up from her seat rather reluctantly and took out her copy of _Gregor and the Code of Claw_. One dog-eared corner had been coated with scotch tape, creases marked the sides of the pages, and the spine was near illegible—it had served the Writer well. She flipped through the well-worn pages to the back cover, cleared her throat, and read aloud:

"_Chapter 28_

_Little did Gregor or any of the Underlanders know about a secret cave branching off of the Plain of Tartarus. This cave, as did the rest of the Underland, belonged to Native Americans before Sandwich took it. All the current Underlanders ever knew was that the Native Americans would sometimes travel into the Underland for sacred ceremonies._

"_This cave near the Plain of Tartarus was very important in one tribe's ceremony. Their healer had invited the spirits to remain there for all of eternity, so that if anyone in the cave died or had already died, the spirits would breathe life back into the person._

"_At the time of Gregor's departure from the Underland, there were three bodies lying in pools of blood, deserted long after Gregor had been rescued by Photos Glow-Glow and Zap. No one—the shiners especially—had questioned why Gregor had lived long enough to be rescued, even after his vital injuries. And with no one anywhere near the cave, let alone the Plain of Tartarus, it was clear that no one was going to question why three blood-drenched bodies in the cave twitched at the same time._

"_The spirits, as they had for centuries, made these bodies live again. The Bane's wound sealed, and his tail grew from its stump. Ares' neck came into realignment, and a new claw formed to match the one on his other wing. Twirltongue's head—gruesome as it was to see—rolled towards her body and reattached. The three breathed, and then exhaled in a moan._

"_The spirits, as generous as they were to make three bodies live, had forgotten to restore the memories of these people. Therefore, none of them could remember the last year of their lives. This was quite a problem for the gnawers, considering that they were both one year old and could only remember their names and a vague notion of the Underland. Ares, who was somewhat older, could only recall very strong memories with a few details._

"_Eventually opening their eyes, then sitting up, then speaking, the trio came to know each other. Twirltongue, as she was wont to do, took charge of the trio and helped the three of them make a living by robbing. But secretly, they all waited for a certain something they felt would happen soon, something that would change all of their lives. The entire Underland was due it. And though no one would ever suspect it, that change would come in the form of an Overlander._

"_The End."_

"See?" the Writer said. "They came back to life because of the Native Americans. They made the cave a healing cave, so people would come back to life inside it."

The Reader blinked. "…Let me see that."

The Writer held her book a little closer to her chest. "No."

The Reader lunged anyways, and despite many shrieks from the Writer that the Reader was going to tear off the already-damaged corner, _Gregor and the Code of Claw_ still ended up in the Reader's hands. The Reader took a look. "Hey, this is your handwriting! You just wrote that whole chapter in the back of your copy of the book!"

The Writer looked hurt. "Well, it's not like Chapter 27 ever said 'the end'. There had to be something more. So I made more." The Writer snatched her book back. "And if you're going to hurt my book so much, I may as well not share the next chapter of my story."

"Wait, you have it?"

The Writer smirked. "Yeah." Figuring she had won for the moment, she picked up her computer and read aloud to the Reader.

* * *

Gregor woke with a splitting headache, on the floor of what appeared to be a boat, judging by the curved walls and narrow enclosure he was in. He made to moan, but thought against it and breathed softly. The female rat was about to speak.

"How much farther to the Labyrinth?"

The bat—large and muscled, with a black coat that glistened in the light of the nearby torches—hung his head over the side of the boat. "I do not know."

"Fly up and check."

"I do not feel well."

"You feel fine," the female rat scoffed. "You've never gotten seasick before."

"We have never stolen a boat before," the bat retorted.

"We didn't steal it, you aren't ill, and you will fly up before your head finds itself in the water instead of over it."

The bat shrugged and lifted off from the edge of the boat. Gregor's eyes, formerly in slits, now widened as he saw how gracefully such a large bat flapped its wings.

"Twirltongue, Ares isn't seasick," the large male rat said to the female from near the front of the ship. "He doesn't want to take the Overlander. He thinks someone's going to fight very hard to take him back, and I think he's right."

"That's twice you've said the word 'think', but it's inconceivable that you're familiar with the term," Twirltongue said with a voice that seemed to be talking to a small child. "Thinking involves a brain, which a Bane has none of."

"But I'm Bane," the male rat said.

"Exactly."

Bane nodded in confusion and watched Ares the bat land on the boat as gently as a leaf. "Perhaps another half an hour," Ares reported.

"Good," Twirltongue said. "And remember, I don't keep you with me because I need you to think. You only have to do as you're told."

"And what you are telling us involves a great amount of risk," Ares said. "The Overlander is worth far more than we can afford to steal successfully."

"Didn't I just tell you not to think about this?" Twirltongue snapped. She stepped from the rudder of the ship and stood in front of Ares and Bane menacingly. "You—" she flicked her tail towards Ares "—are here for your skill as a fighter. Without me, you would be on the streets of Regalia offering joyrides to the young, because no military would accept such a traitor. Do you remember when they spotted you in the streets? The whispers, the tauntings? Only here are you accepted, and you'll tread carefully if you want to avoid becoming a traitor once more."

Ares nodded silently.

"And you—" her tail whipped towards Bane "—have no future without me. How can I possibly feed such an appetite, such a strength? You could never last a day on your own. You have me to thank, both of you, that you're so well-kept. And since I've kept you so well so far, you will leave the thinking to _me._"

Ares and Bane both nodded, their eyes downcast. Twirltongue turned to the rudder of the ship once more, scoffing, "Honestly, use your brains and show some gratitude…"

"That's funny," Bane whispered to Ares. "I thought she asked us not to think."

"I am sure she is just stressed. After all, this is our most dangerous assignment yet," Ares said.

"Yes, this one we won't _forget_," Bane said with a grin. He'd taken to rhyming ever since Ares told him of some human children chanting rhymes in the streets.

Ares quirked a smile, continuing the game. "We will have money for a lifetime, I will _bet_."

"Perhaps, if we make a decent _threat._"

"Will we use the money to pay _debt?_"

"Twirltongue will see us through it, so don't _fret_—"

"Oh, stop it!" Twirltongue groaned. "And sit up the Overlander."

"Is he not asleep?" Ares asked.

"I didn't think he made a _peep_," Bane said shyly.

"I just told you not to think," Twirltongue barked, "and he's just pretending to sleep." She nudged Gregor with her foot, and Gregor's eyes shot open. "There we go."

"Good late day, your highness," Bane said as he sat Gregor up against the side of the boat. Gregor couldn't put his finger on it, but something told him that he should be wary, that Bane wasn't always like this. But how could he doubt such childlike eyes?

"Hi," he said tentatively. Bane grinned.

"Sky," he rhymed.

Gregor looked up. Nope, still in the Underland. "So where are we going?" he asked Twirltongue. "Where's this Labyrinth?"

"The Labyrinth," Twirltongue answered with calm in her voice and ice in her eyes, "is a part of land deep within the gnawers' territory. We hope to take you inside, deep enough that it will take Princess Stellovet and her troops many days to find your body."

"What about you guys?" Gregor asked.

"Oh, we'll be far gone."

"So…you're just going to kidnap me, kill me, and leave me? I thought you were going to at least ask for money."

"Oh, we've already been promised payment. All we have left to do is make it look as if gnawers were your murderers."

"Of course gnawers will be his murderers," Ares said from towards the front of the boat. "Unless I am to kill him, that is."

"Perhaps," Twirltongue said with a yawn. "If you're good, I'll loan you the sword that came with this ship."

"A sword?" Ares' ears perked up.

"Yes, yes, but you have to be good," Twirltongue said.

"Show me the sword," Ares said.

"Must I?"

"I want to see if I can fight with a sword," Ares said. "I have already done all I can with my wings."

Twirltongue sighed and got up from the rudder, scanning the sides of the boat and muttering, "where did I put it now…" Gregor had secretly been inching his back up the wall of the boat, and now that the Bane had been enlisted into helping look for the sword—which happened to be right behind Gregor and had cut loose his tied-together wrists—Gregor took a deep breath and plunged backwards into the water.

Cold shot into his clothes, his skin, and every orifice it could find. Gregor surfaced for air, and after quickly loosening the cloth that bound his feet together, he began to start swimming. In the distance he could hear:

"—just let him _go?_ Dive after!"

"I am a flier, not a swimmer!"

"Bane!"

"I can't support myself in water, let alone a human."

With a roar, Twirltongue leaned over the side of the boat. "Swim all you want, Overlander, but the only ones to hear you will be the serpents!"

"Serpents?" Bane asked. "I thought they were dormant."

"I told you not to think," Twirltongue snapped, "and their sleep cycle is almost over. They'll be hungry, especially with such a snack thrashing around and waking them up."

A shiver of fear shot through Gregor's spine. Serpents? Surely they couldn't be more than snakes. But if rats down here could grow to the size of the Bane…

A solitary splash resonated through the cave, and even Gregor stopped to listen to its echo. It was like a slap on the water, like something long and slick had just broken through the sea.

"Ah, there they are now. Do you hear, Overlander?" Twirltongue called. "One woke up, and the rest will be soon to follow. That is, if this one doesn't try to get you by itself."

"We're friendlier, Overlander," the Bane said. "You should call out and let us know where you are. Ares refuses to fly so close to the water, so we'll come to you with the boat."

Gregor snorted despite his shivering. The waves around him grew, as if something far beneath was sloshing the water around as it circled far beneath him.

"I can sense your shivering," Twirltongue said. "I promise you have every reason to be afraid."

"It's your safety, Overlander," Bane said. "We want to make sure you make it to the Labyrinth."

"Oh!" Gregor laughed. "So you can kill—"

That was all he got out.

* * *

"He doesn't get rescued."

The Reader straightened. "What?"

"Gregor doesn't get rescued," the Writer said. "Twirltongue didn't get the boat close enough to him. You just looked really relaxed now, and I don't think that's right. Because that serpent is there in the water right now, I promise."

The Reader's face didn't change, but paled slightly. "Okay…"

The Writer grinned. "Better. Now, where were we?"

* * *

That was all he got out. One long, slimy, scaly substance grazed across his backside, and he stopped cold. Knowing he had less than a second, he used the substance across his back—snake skin—to kick off and propel himself towards the boat.

A head flew up from the sea and sent water flying everywhere. Gregor turned to see the hideous face of a serpent, its eyes narrow and its teeth bared, as it gave a hiss and jetted straight for Gregor.

But then everything seemed to go in slow motion, and all Gregor heard was his steady pulse. Feeling no sword or weapon of any kind, he did something that would surely kill him. He stopped and turned to face the head.

Just as the serpent's gigantic teeth were about to close over Gregor's head, Gregor found the foothold he was looking for: the serpent's long, scaly body had come underneath him, allowing him to leap up, above the mouth, and straight onto the nose of the serpent.

Struggling, the serpent shook its head repeatedly. Gregor clung onto its whiskers, a most painful action for the serpent; it squealed, thrusting its head every way it could, leaping into the air so it could scrape Gregor off with the ceiling. But no, Gregor held on and inched himself so that his feet were in the eyes of the monster and his hands grasped onto its lips. But by turning so, Gregor had kicked the serpent in the eye.

With one powerful thrust that should have broken its neck, the serpent sent Gregor spinning through the air until he landed in what felt like an upside-down parachute: the cloth floor of the boat, supported by some sort of animal bone. His pulse still in his ears, his mind still focused on the threat towering before him to finish him off, he spied the sword that had cut his bonds. Glinting in the light, it invited him, and so he grasped it.

Right as the serpent darted for Gregor, mouth wide open to show its dripping teeth, Gregor stabbed the serpent through the roof of the mouth so that the sword sliced into the brain.

For a moment, all he heard was the echoing "squelch" of the serpent, his panting, and the heartbeats of two rats and a bat. Then the serpent shuddered and slackened like a rope that had just been cut. Gregor had only time to let go of the sword before the head collapsed onto the floor of the boat and then fell into the water, pulled by the weight of its body into the depths of the Waterway.

"So, rager," he heard behind him. Twirltongue's arms were crossed. "You couldn't even save the sword."

"Oh, shut up," Gregor said in a voice that wasn't his own. Silently he walked to the spot where he had first woken, and collapsed there. They could take him to hell now, for all he cared.

When Ares announced that the cliffs that marked the Labyrinth were upon them, Gregor's mind kick-started from its inactivity. What was that sensation that told him exactly what to do? Didn't he know he could have been killed—most definitely would have been killed, if he hadn't held onto the serpent's head? How could he have possibly ruled out every choice and known that a suicidal move would also be the one that saved his life? Gregor decided it was things like these that made him so forgetful. Maybe the first ten years of his life had been like this: something out a nightmare. He decided he didn't want to know.

"Twirltongue, we're safe here, right?" Bane asked. He had gotten closer and closer to Gregor as the trip progressed, and now sat almost on top of him as he gazed out into the sea.

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, there's just a boat back there, is all."

Twirltongue's and Ares' heads perked up. "Really?" Twirltongue asked. "Bane, are you sure?"

"It's over there."

The other two looked where the Bane was pointing. "Bane is right," Ares said decisively. "But why would there be a boat?"

"Maybe the sailors want to thank the rager that saved them from a serpent they would have had to face," Bane said.

"No, no, they can't know we have a rager here. The Overlander, the future prince, nonetheless," Twirltongue said.

"Then the sailors felt like cruising," Bane said.

"In serpent-infested waters?" Twirltongue asked. "No matter. We'll still outrun them."

"There is only one man," Ares said.

"As if it matters. We won't get any closer, so why should we bother seeing how many there are?"

"Okay, Twirltongue," Bane said.

"Bane, why did you take that tone?" Twirltongue asked.

"It's only that he's gaining on us."

Twirltongue and Ares looked again where Bane had gestured. "Inconceivable," Twirltongue spat.

"What does that mean?" Bane asked.

"I don't think she knows," Gregor muttered. He'd been listening to all this, but hadn't moved an inch.

"I said not to use that word!" Twirltongue snapped, forgetting that she hadn't told Gregor not to think. "Ares, what does he look like?"

"He is a human dressed all in black, sailing a ship in dangerous waters in a territory that is not his. There is not much more to say," Ares said.

"Any fliers?"

"No."

Twirltongue grinned. "Excellent. We have an advantage over him. Ares, can you carry all of us?"

"No."

"You'll have to. I want all of us on top of that cliff over there, as soon as possible." Twirltongue pointed to a cliff that even Gregor could see while lying on the floor of the boat. It was a narrow rocky ledge, one that appeared just on the verge of crumbling.

"Twirltongue, I cannot carry two gnawers. Most fliers are considered strong to carry one, but two is my limit."

"Limits were made to be broken, I always say."

"_Rules_ were made to be broken, you always say. We would not steal otherwise."

Twirltongue tried to speak, but made a sound like "harrumph" instead. "Then you'll carry us one at a time. I want the Overlander with me. I don't trust him." She nudged Gregor with her foot. Gregor considered biting it, but figured it would take terrible. …Well, that wasn't necessarily true. With the right sauce, who knew?

Gregor could now see the tips of other cliffs peeking at him over the edge of the boat. He couldn't help but be spooked by their eerie emptiness, and imagined them to be full of rats with boulders to rain down on them. Maybe the emptiness was better.

"The Overlander and I will be first," Twirltongue said to Ares, "and you will pick up Bane after you have seen us safely to the top."

"What about our ship?" Bane asked.

"It stays. It's served its purpose."

"Alright. What about the man in black?"

"What about him? He won't be able to catch up to us when we're at the top of the cliff."

"Oh. Right." Bane looked down, as if ashamed that this fact had escaped him. Knowing Twirltongue, she'd rebuke him if not for her obvious glee at having a plan and no interruption to it.

The boat came up to rest beside the tallest cliff. Twirltongue half-dragged, half-carried Gregor onto Ares's back, and Gregor squeezed his eyes shut as the black bat launched into the air. But…this was gentler, so much easier than he thought it would be. But no matter how mindful Ares was about his passengers, Gregor still couldn't bring himself to look down.

Twirltongue lifted Gregor like baggage and set him on the top of the cliff, taking some rope from her arms so she could retie him. "Go back for Bane," she barked to Ares.

"There is no need to ask like that," Ares said. He looked over the edge and paused for a moment. "Bane says that the man in black is nearly upon us."

"And there's my reason to bark at you. Hurry!" Twirltongue grit her teeth as she fumbled with her claws to tie Gregor. Rats apparently had a lot of trouble with tasks that needed thumbs. Gregor would have to remember that.

After two minutes, Ares returned, panting, and Bane nearly leaped off the bat and onto the ground. "We're here! Now what do we do?" Bane asked, bouncing from one foot to another like an eager child.

"Take the Overlander." Twirltongue jabbed Gregor towards the childlike rat. "I'm sick of his scent. How's the man in black doing?"

Ares looked over the edge of the cliff again. "He has taken his boat next to ours…and hopped into it. Twirltongue, he is trying to climb the rocks…"

"He'll never make it," Twirltongue scoffed. Gregor could see the flash of fear that shrouded her eyes for a moment. "Is he getting far?"

"He is managing," Ares said.

"Inconceivable," she grumbled. Bane and Gregor exchanged looks. "Fine. Let him manage. If he falls, excellent. See that he doesn't come up. If he makes it, it's your job to see that he makes it no further. Bane, take the Overlander and follow me." With a flourish of her tail, Twirltongue started towards what appeared to be the entrance to the Labyrinth.

"Sorry," Bane said before lifting Gregor up and onto his back. Gregor, with his hands tied loosely, could hardly hold onto Bane's slick fur. "And good luck," Bane said to Ares. "Show him what you can do."

"I should be the one wishing you luck," Ares said, glancing meaningfully at Twirltongue's back. Bane grinned and scurried to catch up to the silver gnawer, Gregor jostling around on his back.


	4. Chapter 4

Ares's wings twitched, and he considered grooming as he waited for the man in black to make it up the cliff. He had no doubt that the man would make it—this man seemed as determined as Twirltongue was to get money, or as Bane was to eat, or as Ares was to get revenge.

One of the first facts Ares had recognized when he awoke in the cave was that he did not remember much of his old life. He did, however, remember more than Twirltongue, something the gnawer would not admit if her life depended on it. Ares was the one to whisper to her the names of important facts; when Queen Luxa had gone missing, for example, Ares had to remind her that Queen Luxa ruled over the humans. In his early years of living with Twirltongue and Bane, memory was the one thing Ares truly felt he added to the trio.

However, though Bane and Twirltongue remembered only a few facts about the Underland, Ares had experiences that replayed in his head every time he had a free moment. He recalled little of his parents and only a few key faces from his childhood (the golden flier named Aurora, for one). What stood out to him faintly—but what he dwelled upon most—was his memory of a bond. Ares had loved his bond dearly—the boy, after all, used to be a vital part of Ares's life.

The Underland was, unfortunately, a warring place, and Ares and his bond had gotten pulled into it. In fact, his bond had been killed as a result of one confrontation between them and the gnawer enemy. Now, Ares lived with two gnawers—Bane, an innocent companion that kept Ares from going completely insane, and Twirltongue, the leader that fed them in exchange for their loyalty and service—and so he couldn't blame them or their kind. He didn't even remember any specific gnawer to do with his bond's death.

One figure stood out to him, though: a human. A woman with a dagger with an inscription of a dragon. This woman, with her imperative tone and her dagger glinting in threat, had ordered Ares and his bond to the meeting that would prove to be his bond's demise. Though Ares owed everything to Twirltongue and had to stay with her, he hoped that one day Twirltongue would allow him to search for this human and murder her, for the sake of his bond.

Of course, Twirltongue needed Ares—if not for his memory then for his usefulness as a flier—and wouldn't let him go so easily. So Ares, when they were not stealing or capturing people for ransom, studied. He met fliers that defended Regalia and learned some of the best defense strategies, should he be caught without a human to defend him. He turned to the humans next, who were rather fierce-tempered but eager to learn if a flier could defend himself with only his talons. Ares could. His strength, in fact, made it possible, as his wings could hold their own against a sword flying towards him. Even a gnawer had heard of Ares's studying and decided to teach him not only to defend himself, but fight back.

"You fliers are all too dependent," the gnawer had scoffed. "I'll never know how you survived until the humans came down here. Most fliers could never accept that they could even battle, let alone defeat a gnawer, but you—you have the strength. With those muscles and that size, you could fight your way to the pressure points and weak spots that bring down a gnawer."

"But," Ares had interrupted, "I do not want to fight a gnawer."

"Oh?"

"I want to battle a human. A woman who sent my bond to his death."

The gnawer nodded. "Revenge. I like it. I used to be a fan of it, until I joined the humans."

After this conversation, Ares met with this gnawer for as long as he could without Twirltongue noticing, until he could attack gnawer and human alike. One day this gnawer disappeared, but Ares practiced his teachings in secret, in the cave just a little distance away from Regalia. Truly, Ares had learned the most from Ripred the gnawer.

Unfortunately, Twirltongue saw no reason for Ares to leave their trio, not when he provided valuable transportation (and now fighting skills). So Ares stayed, partially because he didn't know where to start his search, and partially because he depended on Twirltongue to find him work, food, and a place to live. So if Twirltongue said he had to wait for the man in black, Ares would wait.

Waiting, however, was getting a bit tiring. Ares peeked down. The man's head was against the rock, as if he was resting. He was no more than halfway up the cliff.

"Are you not in a hurry?" Ares called down.

The man looked up. "This is not as easy as it appears, flier. I would expect you to understand, with your wings."

Ares raised an eyebrow. It was a woman in black, not a man. "My wings are strong," he said to her. "I would offer to carry you, as you are a woman and should not have to climb."

"I would accept your offer, but I do not think my femininity should stop me."

"I did not finish. I am here to kill you, should you reach the top, so I cannot make such an offer."

The woman paused. "Is this a dilemma for you?"

Ares shrugged. "I have never killed a woman before." Then, to himself: "It would be good practice."

"Say that again?"

"Is there any way you could hurry?"

"I do not particularly want to, if you are going to kill me."

"Go down, then. I will only kill you if you reach the top."

"You have something of value to me. I am afraid I must reach the top and retrieve it."

"If it is the Overlander you wish to retrieve, he is long gone."

"Then I suppose I must hurry after all."

The woman lifted her arm and pulled herself up the wall a few more inches. Ares thought it was like watching water drip from a stalactite.

"I could give you a ride to the top, if you wish," he said. "We may fight each other when I have dropped you off here."

"How high do you intend to drop me from?"

A chuckle escaped from Ares's throat. "I will see you up here alive."

"How do I know?"

"I could give you my word as a flier."

"Is it not true that those who assist the Dread Pirate Roberts are fliers? Surely I cannot trust you, if fliers can help such a man."

True, Ares thought. "Then I will give my word on the body of my murdered bond that you will reach the top of this cliff alive."

The woman paused. "Come down when you are ready."

Ares swooped down to pause behind the woman, who promptly collapsed onto his back. She slid off his back and onto her feet when they reached the top of the cliff. She pulled out her sword, but Ares lifted up his wings. "You should rest," he said.

"It is not because I am a woman, is it?"

"No, but anyone who climbed halfway up a cliff deserves to catch their breath."

"Thank you," said the woman as she sheathed her sword. Now that Ares could see clearly, he noticed that this woman—a girl in her late teens, more like—not only wore all black clothing, but also a black mask that concealed all of her hair. Her violet eyes peeked through a cut-out strip in the cloth, and another open part of the mask allowed him to see her mouth. He examined her further, and saw only a sword in terms of supplies.

"Do you have a dagger with the inscription of a dragon?" Ares asked.

The woman held out her sword. "This is all I have," she said. "Do you?"

"No, but I am looking for someone who does. Someone who killed my bond."

"Your bond?" the woman asked. Her eyes focused sharply on him. "What was his name?"

"I…I do not remember," Ares said. "The gnawers and I, we remember so little of our lives. We awoke in a cave one day with only a basic knowledge of the Underland. All that they remembered of their lives were their names. I was both blessed and cursed with the memory of my bond."

"And yet you do not remember his name," the woman said.

"Or his face. I do recall that I loved him very much, though. He was quite a warrior, and a close companion. I believe he must have done something monumental for me, if I can think of him so fondly. It must have been along the lines of saving my life."

"That is what bonds tend to do."

"You may understand, then, why I would want to avenge his death. There was one woman that sent him to battle, a woman with the inscription of a dragon on her dagger. I realize hardly anyone knows what a dragon is, so I assume she must be very powerful to not only know what one is but have one made for her. I must find her, and kill her. I _will_ find her, and when I do, I will look her in the eyes and say, 'Hello. My name is Ares the flier. You killed my bond. Prepare to die.'"

"I believe you and I may be searching for the same woman. If she is the one I am looking for as well, I sincerely hope you kill her if I cannot," the woman said. She pulled out her sword.

"You are ready to fight?"

"Whether I am or not, you have saved me from a hard labor and entertained me. I must begin our battle, if only to express my gratitude."

Ares smiled a little and got into a fighting stance. "You seem decent to me. I will hate to kill you."

"You seem decent to me. I will hate to die."

They lunged into battle. The woman, with her sword, struck a powerful flow, but Ares aimed his talon to match the sword. His talon, strong as it was, could take only a few blows before a dent appeared, so he resorted to ducking as the woman struck again. Ah, but she had studied, for she aimed next for his feet, a move that would not appeal to most humans intimidated by a flier twice their size. Ares jumped and scrunched into a ball as the woman sliced for his head, then shot out one wing to whack her in the stomach, sending her staggering a foot back towards the edge of the cliff.

The woman attacked with more force, by which Ares redirected that force; the battle mainly went on in this fashion. Ares had to hand it to the woman: though she appeared to add more power with every step she took, she never lost her temper. Most got frustrated with this flier that eluded death, but not she.

"You must have dedicated a lifetime to study," Ares commented as a wing that pulled from the sword flashed before her eyes. His other wing shot for her side.

The woman's sword flashed to meet with his talon. "I could say the same about you."

"You are quite skilled," Ares said.

"Why are you smiling, then?"

"I know something you do not know."

"And what is that?"

"All of my claws can slice through you." He leaped into the air and brought the talons on his feet to her heart. He wanted her death to be quick.

But no, her sword came a hair's width between her and the talon, and she pushed her sword against Ares so that he almost landed on his back. Ares charged towards her, the claws on his wings slicing towards her head now.

"That is quite impressive," the woman said, "but I also know something you do not."

"You do?"

"You see, my sword can cut through such a claw as yours." The woman's sword swished through the air as she struck horizontally, intending to cut first his claw and then his head.

Ares fell onto his back as the blade flew above him; he could almost see his reflection in it. He used his position on the ground to kick the woman to the edge of the cliff, but instead the woman leaped over his legs and fell onto Ares, knocking his breath out and holding her sword to his neck.

"Very well," Ares said, "kill me quickly. But let that sword be used once more on the killer of my bond."

"Perhaps one day," the woman replied. "But for the moment…" She knocked the butt of her sword against Ares's skull, and he fell unconscious.

"I am certain one day the woman we seek will die by either my sword or your claw," the woman said. "But in the meantime, I intend to chase after who I believe is your bond." She patted his head gently. "Fly you high, Ares."

She stood up and ran into the Labyrinth.

* * *

Stellovet stared out into the Waterway pensively. The soldiers behind her went about their business uneasily, wondering why this princess was so quiet when she usually ordered them around. Along with that, it might have helped to know why she had them go to the Labyrinth, of all places.

"We have arrived," Solovet said from Stellovet's side. She was disguised as a simple solider (complete with a false beard), a guise she often donned whenever she had to be with the princess in public. Stellovet straightened and nodded.

"And tell me," she asked. "what that is in front of the tallest cliff?"

"A ship, your highness. Two of them, to be precise."

Solovet and Stellovet smirked to each other in secret before Stellovet turned to the rest of the men. "Bring the fliers out," she ordered. "I imagine that the kidnappers climbed the cliff, and so we will investigate the top."

"Climbed the cliff?" one of the soldiers asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. "Your highness, with all due respect, perhaps these vessels have nothing to do with the kidnappers—"

"I refuse to take chances in finding my future husband," Stellovet interrupted, and had her eyes water as she looked at the captain. Maybe looking distraught would ease the sudden blow of her words. She kept this gaze for a moment, and then went back to business. "It might truly be best if we split up. Divide the supplies and take one of the ships. Go farther into the harbor with half your men. I will take the other half and investigate the top of the cliff."

"Your highness," the soldier said nervously, "the gnawers would not let us any further into their land than we are now. They would surely wake the serpents if we went into the harbor."

"Then we move on. I want the Overlander safe with me by the time we return to Regalia. If we come home with a corpse, someone will pay, and it may be you if we do not hurry."

"Yes, your highness." The soldier scurried off to yell to his men to hurry with the docking.

Solovet nodded approvingly at her granddaughter, and a smirk etched both their faces once more.


	5. Chapter 5

The Bane scurried into a chamber of the Labyrinth. "The man in black is coming. I didn't see Ares after him."

Twirltongue raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying he beat Ares, Bane?"

"I hope not, but it looks like it," Bane said.

"Inconceivable!" Twirltongue hissed and stood up. Beside her, Gregor sat tied up on the stone floor and thought, who was this man in black, exactly? Another murderer? This place seemed to be full of them, what with the pirates that killed Luxa and the people who hired Twirltongue to kill him. He didn't even want to think about the wars that people always talked about.

"Remind me what 'inconceivable' means again?" Bane asked.

"Never mind that," Twirltongue snapped. "I want that man gone, Bane. Do what you must. The Overlander and I will head towards the center of the Labyrinth. Get up," she said and jabbed Gregor. "Your savior will have to wait."

Gregor rolled his eyes before he was yanked up by the rope that held his hands together. Twirltongue pushed him further into the stone tunnel that awaited him.

"Uh…Twirltongue? What must I do?" Bane asked.

Twirltongue put a paw over her eyes. "You're big, and you're strong. You know that, right?"

Bane nodded. "I'm big."

"Exactly. And there are rocks in here, right?"

Bane looked around. "Oh…yes."

"So you're strong enough that you can pick up a rock and throw it. And when the man in black arrives, you can…?"

"Uh…"

"_Hit him with the rock!_" Twirltongue's tail whipped out at Gregor in frustration as she said to herself, "Honestly, can you believe him?"

"He's really something," Gregor said, trying to be patronizing.

"You haven't heard him when he's hungry. I don't know why I keep feeding him. All he does is grow another six inches and whine louder."

"Yeah, same thing with my little sister, she used to…"

Gregor and Twirltongue's voices echoed into the distance, and Bane watched them go before sitting down on the ground. He'd never taken a rest after running from the cliff, though he'd never really needed it. The fact that he was strong and didn't tire easily was about the only thing he truly knew about himself.

Bane had no idea what his life was like before he'd woken in the cave with Twirltongue and Ares, so one could say his life started when he awoke fully-grown and the strongest of the group. Sure, Ares was strong with his wings, but Twirltongue just didn't get the same satisfaction from Ares holding a talon to a neck as she did from Bane pouncing from the darkness, claws at the ready.

Of course, Bane didn't really want people to fear him like they did. Something about his coat—how they always looked at the Bane's white, glistening fur as if it was on fire—always scared the people. Bane didn't really get it.

So to repress his sadness that no one seemed to like him, he befriended Ares. If he was in a good mood, the large flier would tell him what he remembered of his childhood, of the golden flier he used to play with and the bond he used to battle alongside. And then when Ares came back after a trip to Regalia, talking about the children in the streets of Regalia and their rhyming game, the flier spent all night with Bane as he thought of words to rhyme. When Bane found that Ares had been training, he offered to help the flier practice, something that didn't teach Bane anything but greatly helped Ares.

Bane liked to think that Ares was like a bond, though he would never admit it. The brooding bat might laugh if Bane tried to start bonding, a very bad laugh that Bane never wanted to hear from the flier.

Twirltongue liked to laugh at the Bane. When she wasn't barking at him as she was doing today, she would often just tease Bane to relieve herself of boredom, frustration, or whatever else. Sometimes Ares interrupted, but not often after Twirltongue started to yell at him too. Bane just took the punishment so Ares—his friend—wouldn't have to.

Of course, his friend wasn't the one that provided him with food. And with his size and his strength, Bane needed a lot of it. But he had no idea how to get it, no idea of what the connection was between the golden coins Twirltongue told him to demand and the food that she "bought". No matter what ties he felt with Ares, he depended on Twirltongue to live. So if Twirltongue said he had to attack the man in black, Bane would attack.

Bane was so preoccupied with picking a decent rock that he almost didn't see the man in black come running into the enclosure. Jumping up in surprise, Bane picked up the closest rock he had and threw it. It shattered on the wall right next to the man's head, and the man froze.

"I did that on purpose," Bane lied. "I just wanted to show you how strong I am."

"I knew that already," the man said. The voice wasn't right for a man.

"You're a woman?"

"Is this a problem?"

"I don't really want to kill a woman."

"Neither did your friend, but we came to an agreement. Tell me, why must I die today?"

"You're chasing after us, and I don't think Twirltongue likes it." Bane covered his mouth.

"Why are you covering your mouth?"

"Twirltongue told me not to think."

"You should think. It is good for you, and I imagine that you could do well at it with practice."

"Thank you," Bane said. "You know, for a woman, you're very nice."

"And for a giant gnawer with white fur, you are as well."

"If you like, you can turn back. I only have to kill you if you want to go ahead."

"But I do want to go ahead, so this is a problem."

"I see. Well, why don't you put down your sword, and I'll stay away from the rocks, and we can battle normally? It ought to at least be fair."

"I do not see how it would be fair," the woman said.

"If you managed to beat Ares, you're probably a lot better than I know."

The woman smiled and dropped her sword. "That was quite a good thought."

"Thank you again." Bane smiled back. And then he lunged.

The Bane knew he was strong, but he wasn't nearly as agile or flexible—and he was hardly as quick—as the woman in black. Like a fish, slippery and flopping, she squirmed out of any grip he tried to hold her with. He'd intended to squeeze her to death, but now might have to content himself with getting a good blow to the head.

"You're fast," Bane said as he lumbered towards her and swept for her clothing. She ducked and slid behind him.

"It is quite a good thing. You are strong," she said. Bane twirled around and found her trying to sneak into the cavern. He almost didn't see her, with her midnight black outfit.

"Why are you wearing black?" he asked as his claw grazed against her arm. The cloth didn't rip open, but dampened with a bit of blood. The woman jabbed him in the gut.

"I do it to honor the memory of a friend. He wore all black like I, when he came face to face with a giant white gnawer."

Bane paused. It was in this moment that the girl snuck behind him and, using a rock to jump from, leaped onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bane staggered around, trying to breathe properly—he'd never worried about losing his breath before, and what an error he'd made!—but the girl's hands pressed into his throat, clogging his airways.

"Oh…kay! Oh…kay!" Bane gasped out. And then he collapsed.

The girl jumped nimbly off of Bane's back and studied him. "I am sure you are wondering whether or not that white gnawer was you. I will tell you that it was, but that I forgive you. In these times, you are no longer the enemy."

Straightening and glancing around the cave, the woman in black chose the tunnel that Twirltongue and Gregor had escaped into, and ran for it.

* * *

"It appears you were completely right, Princess Stellovet."

"Of course," Stellovet said with her trademark smirk. She traced through the footsteps. The small shoeprints mingling with the marks of claws presented her with a problem: someone was following the Overlander. She directed her displeasure about that towards the façade she was keeping for the soldiers.

"It appears my Gregor tried to battle his way out once he reached the top of the cliff," she announced. "And these…" she nudged the print of a flier with her foot "are gnawer prints. Our future prince has been abducted by the gnawer enemy."

"But Princess Stellovet, the gnawers have not shown hostility in years," one of the soldiers said meekly.

"Then consider this your first sign," Stellovet said. She gestured towards the entrance to the Labyrinth. "Come, we must find him!"

"Those cannot be the Overlander's feet," Solovet (still in disguise) whispered to her granddaughter.

"We will find this traitor when we find the Overlander," Stellovet hissed back. "And we will stop the traitor in his tracks."


	6. Chapter 6

"Yeah, Lizzie's really nice but really quiet, and Boots is—"

"The opposite, right? Does your quiet one ever try to ask you for anything? Mine, he wanted to leave us for who knows _how_ long to get revenge on someone he can hardly even remember."

"I bet Lizzie would get a panic attack at the thought of ever leaving home. Back in the Overland I wanted to invite her to my apartment in New York so she could see it's not so bad living away from the family."

"No, no, keep living by yourself. You'll never know how much you loved being self-sufficient until you've got two other mouths to feed, and the second one is never full—"

"Am I interrupting?"

Twirltongue and Gregor both straightened to see the man in black—who was not a man, but a woman—standing before them, arms folded and somewhat amused. Twirltongue stood up from her seat next to Gregor, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"You're a woman," she said lamely.

"It would seem so," the woman said a little coldly.

"And you've also gotten past my flier and my Bane. But now it's down to you and me."

"For the Overlander?"

"For the Overlander."

"Very well. Name your battle."

"It can't be a battle of strength. I'm surely no match for you, considering how you beat my companions." _More like subordinates,_ Gregor thought. Twirltongue went on. "But we could challenge your wit."

"You feel you have a chance at winning?"

"A _chance_?" Twirltongue laughed. "Allow me to clarify. Have you heard of the dictionary, the encyclopedia, the Bible?"

The woman nodded.

"False, all of it. I've compiled enough knowledge to best any person, regardless of species or gender. Surely I'd win if we were even to play a game."

The woman's eyes flashed. "A game?"

"Yes, though I try not to degrade myself to such a level."

"I see you have supplies. Would there perhaps be a wineskin of water?"

Twirltongue pulled it out, along with two stone cups. Gregor wasn't sure why two gnawers and a flier would need cups, but guessed that they'd been stolen along with the wineskin. The woman uncorked the wineskin easily, poured the water neatly into two cups, and took a small vial from a pouch next to her sword that looked nearly invisible against her black clothing.

"These are the shavings of one of the most lethal plants in the jungle. Harmless though it may be to touch, it kills whoever is foolish enough to consume it. I have collected a small but deadly dosage in this vial." The woman held up the vial, then turned her back and poured it into one of the cups. Gregor couldn't see which cup the vial poured into. The woman sat down on the ground and set one cup in front of Twirltongue and the other in front of herself.

"The game has begun," she announced. "You must correctly guess which cup I have poured the powder into. When you have decided, we will drink and discover who is right…and who is dead."

"That's it?" Twirltongue scoffed. "I only have to say where the poison is?"

"I would guess quickly, if I were you. The gnawers will become aware of our presence soon."

"I don't need to guess. I only need to decide what you would do, based on what I know of you. For example, you're a woman and most women are foolish, therefore you would place the poison in your own cup. However, you've beaten my flier, which means you've studied, where you would have discovered that even women can die, so you would place the poison in my cup."

"Is this your answer?"

"Not even close. You've also beaten my Bane, which means you're strong, and in your girlish mind you would consider your strength enough to save you, so you would put the poison in your own cup. However, in order to have gotten this poison in the first place, you'd have had to travel to the jungle, meaning you've learned to kill other creatures to get what you want—in this case, the Overlander—so you would put the poison in my cup."

"Truly you have a dizzying intellect," the woman said.

"Just wait until I get the answer. Where was I?"

"The jungle."

"Right. But in order to survive in the jungle, you would have to kill, and in killing, you would have to be both strong and smart. And surely someone as strong and smart as you—" Here Twirltongue smiled as if complimenting the woman "—would think yourself worthy of living even after consuming poison, and therefore you'd put the poison in your own cup."

"You are trying to trick me into giving you the answer," the woman said. "It will not work."

"But it has!" Twirltongue grinned. "I know which cup has the poison, and I'll be perfectly happy to tell you it's—Bane! Bane, how good to see you!"

The woman turned, and though Gregor at first looked for the giant white rat, his eyes were drawn to the cups that Twirltongue was switching while trying not to snicker.

"The Bane is not there," the woman said.

"Shame," Twirltongue said, "I rather miss my favorite white rat. I hope you haven't done anything too horrible to him. But oh well, let's drink, shall we?" She leaned down to lap up the cup while the woman lifted hers and sipped. Gregor watched both of them very carefully.

Twirltongue sat up and promptly burst into laughter.

"Yes?" the woman said calmly.

"How inconceivably stupid you must be! I'd expect that from a human, but a female? You shame us all!"

"Would you care to explain?"

"I can't believe you thought I saw Bane! I switched those cups while your back was turned, you silly girl, and now you'll never get the Overlander because that poison is working its way through _you_—"

Twirltongue's eyes widened, and she slumped to the ground like a dead weight. Gregor frowned with a touch of sadness in his eyes. She hadn't been _that_ bad.

"I am very sorry to take your friend from you," the woman said somewhat coldly, "but I am certain the gnawers now sense our presence. We must flee." She stood up and untied the ropes around Gregor with one smooth gesture.

"What are you doing, following me like this?" Gregor asked. The woman didn't answer. "Are you going to kill me too?" he asked, louder. She still didn't answer. Muttering, Gregor said, "You must not have wanted me very badly if the poison was in your cup."

"It was in both our cups," the woman said as she helped him stand. "My time eating the fruit of the jungle has made me immune to such a poison."

* * *

Stellovet glanced over the marks in the sand where Bane had collapsed. Bane had disappeared, but the prints still stood out from the dirt prominently. "Another battle," she told her men. "My Gregor has fought once more and defeated his opponent. But he has been captured once more by the company of his opponent. You see the tracks."

"Shall we go ahead, Princess Stellovet?" Solovet asked, mainly because the men were too busy exchanging glances to ask. The men, secretly, wondered what kind of warrior husband won two battles and still got captured after each time.

"We will," Stellovet said. "It appears my fiancé has been taken further into the Labyrinth. Onward!"

* * *

The woman in black made Gregor run, something he started out being grateful for (finally, he wasn't tied up in a corner!), but now made him pray for death. No matter if he used to be in track and no matter that he had a sports scholarship, no human was meant to go so far for such an extended period of time without devoting their life to practicing. He and the woman must have travelled across the entirety of the Underland, but only now did they get out of the Labyrinth. The woman waited until the stones that marked the exit were out of sight before she stopped and held Gregor by the wrist.

"Sit down," she said. "Catch your breath."

Gregor collapsed onto the ground, panting. The woman in black hardly seemed phased and watched him without as much as a tiny gasp of breath.

"So who are you," Gregor panted, "and what do you want?"

"I am no one you wish to anger."

"Depends. What did you do to Ares and Bane?"

"Ah, you care about the flier still. He and his friend live, if that is what you want to hear."

"And now I want to hear what you want with me. Are you another person sent to kill me?"

"I am a killer, certainly."

"That doesn't help."

"You are wasting your breath. We can continue running, if you wish to tire your lungs so much."

"No, no, I'm good. But for the record, my fiancée's going to be right after us, so I don't see the point in running."

"You are counting on your beloved princess to save you?"

"She's not my 'beloved' anything."

"Ah, so you admit you are not in love with your fiancée."

"Not that it seems to matter in this weird place, but I'd never love her."

"'Cannot love her,' you mean."

Gregor glared up at the woman. "Don't ever say that. Even a killer like you would never realize what kind of love I used to have."

The woman, eyes narrowed, took out her sword. Gregor shrunk back slightly. "Think of this as a warning, your _highness_. In this 'weird place', there are penalties for lying." She gestured for him to get up, and led him in another jog that must have stretched for miles.

* * *

Stellovet sniffed at the cups of water, pretending to be an expert. The vial lying to the side was really the only clue she had that it was poison. Of course, the dead gnawer to the side might have hinted at that too.

"It appears that my fiancé has not suffered from this poison…yet," Stellovet said. "If he is not alive when we find him, I will not be amused.

"Footprints, your highness," one of the soldiers reported. "Two sets of them, both human."

"It would appear another human has interfered with the gnawers' plans," Solovet (still in disguise and false beard) said. She gave Stellovet a look that said, "_We cannot pretend anymore._"

"_Who is this person who dares interfere with a murder like this?_" Stellovet wondered before pushing the men towards the footprints and out of the Labyrinth.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hurry now, Overlander," said the woman in black. "Climb higher."

Gregor grumbled a string of curses that he would gladly be yelling if the person who deserved it wasn't a woman or a killer. They'd arrived at a strange place called Queenshead, which deserved its name for the rock that looked like a queen's crown. However, nearby there were several more reachable rocks that the woman in black directed them towards. Gregor followed as the woman climbed up to the top of a smaller rock that looked roughly like a trapezoid with the walls like slopes.

Why was he being so obedient about all this? Well, she could kill him, obviously. She could yell at him, even worse; Gregor, for a reason unbeknownst to him, cringed whenever this woman got too angry. It wasn't like he wanted to make her happy, but she had the tone that said she knew what she was doing. And besides, she was the one who knew where they were going, and she must intend to keep Gregor alive for the moment. She had so far.

"Rest, _majesty,_" the woman said when they had reached the top of the rock. "It appears you can, before we head for the jungle." She turned around to look in all directions, standing as tall as she could while searching for pursuers. Gregor still had her beat in height, though she came close to him. Nodding in satisfaction, she sat down at the edge of a rock.

"A jungle?" Gregor asked skeptically as he sat in front of her. "Don't you want them to find my body soon?"

"I want to be as far from anyone else as possible. The gnawers must surely have noticed a white gnawer and a flier wandering around their lands, so they must realize we were there, and we must avoid them. Regalia—" she pointed loftily in one direction "—must surely be aware of your kidnapping thanks to your fiancée, so they will be looking for us, and we must avoid them."

"I know who you are," Gregor said.

"Are you always so ignorant of what is being said to you?"

"I just now got it. The planning, the power, the way you beat everyone…you're the Dread Pirate Roberts I've heard about, aren't you?"

"At least you do not rule me out because I am female." The woman in black smirked. "What may I do for you?"

"You can go in the jungle and get eaten. You can be eaten slowly and painfully, and I want to watch."

"Harsh words for an Overlander who knows nothing of pain."

"Pain? It's not like the Overland is one big utopia where everyone lives in apartments and never fights or kills. I've known more pain than you could imagine, and it's all your fault."

"Oh?"

"You killed the girl I love."

"Perhaps. I kill many people. Why would a petty girl stand out to me?"

"She's got this look in her eyes that never goes away. It's like she's determined all the time, like she's suffered so much and she still wants to do something about other people's misery. And I should know she had tough times, because she has a scar on one side of her face. I can't believe I called her 'Scar Girl'. I could have been so much better, somebody she deserved to be with." Gregor put his head in one hand and sighed. "I can't believe she put up with me."

"It is rather hard to imagine," the woman said, "but I believe I know this girl. She came in from the Overland?"

Gregor nodded.

"Yes, she had a flier escorting her to his homeland when I came across her. I am certain you did not know this, but my band of criminals consists mainly of fliers that raid boats on the Waterway and the loads that other fliers carry. It was uncommon for us to see a lone flier over the Waterway—no less a flier with no guards, carrying one young human that we felt sure we recognized. So we attacked, believing that this human must be important."

"You have no idea."

"I do not believe you do either," the woman said, "but it is of no matter, because the human—a girl—was dressed in odd Overland clothes, with no weapon and nothing of value. But even when we believed she might have something of value and were threatening to kill her, she did not struggle. She only looked me in the eyes as I held the sword to her neck, and she said 'please'."

"…She did that? She only asked?"

"I was rather impressed. She did not bargain, nor scream for help, nor tell her flier to attack or defend or run away. She only asked that she please live. I asked why."

"And?"

"She said she was in love, and I can only assume she meant it was with you. This boy, she said, was an Overlander that she turned to in a time of great distress, and you were kind enough to take her in and take care of her. You treated her well, she thought, and she described your brown hair and eyes, your face and its free range of emotion, and the way you never left her for longer than you had to. You seem to have shown her a new world, but she only saw you. I can see now that she was deluded in her opinions of you, but I am glad to have let her die still believing that you were the best man she could have met."

Gregor shook his head. "I can't believe she put up with me," he whispered. "I've been so blind."

"And you are still blind, if you believe a fiancée like Princess Stellovet is going to replace this girl."

"What do you know about Luxa?" Gregor snapped. "How could you know how amazing she is, how she lived for such a long time with me and did everything I told her to do? She told me she loved me every day! You only knew her for a few minutes, and you killed her. _You're_ the blind one, if you can't spare her!"

Gregor glanced behind the woman, and got on his knees. "And if you can't spare her, I don't see why I should spare you." With that, he pushed her off of the top of the rock that they'd been sitting on.

The woman's eyes widened as she disappeared over the edge. There was a bit of rolling, a bit of tumbling, a bit of tossing and turning on top of different rocks. But the only thing Gregor heard beneath the rock was three words.

"As…you…wish…"

Gregor's breath caught in his throat. "Luxa…Luxa, I'm such an idiot…" He tried to climb down the rock after her, but ended up slipping and tumbling to her side.

He groaned and opened his eyes, only to find Luxa's violet ones staring back. His heart nearly stopped. He never thought he'd see those eyes again.

"Are you well, Gregor?" she asked. Her face mask had fallen off, and her silver hair toppled onto the ground, finding Gregor's hand and making it melt.

"Well?" Gregor said, and then laughed shakily. "Well? Luxa, you're alive. If you want, I can fly!"

"There is no need for that," Luxa said, and her eyes softened. "Gregor, why did you do it? Why did you choose Stellovet?"

"She chose me, Luxa, and you know, I can't believe I went along. I was so messed up after I heard you were dead, I would have done anything to even get close to you again." He scooted closer to her, ignoring the stitch in his side from the fall. "Luxa, why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

"I wanted to, I truly did," Luxa whispered. "But I wanted to bring you to a better Underland. I have a plan, Gregor, but I could not act unless you were far from my mind. You are not good for me, Gregor."

"I think me getting engaged just to come to the Underland ought to show how you aren't good for me either," Gregor said. "But if you'll forgive me, I'll forgive you."

"Why do you need to say it out loud? I have forgiven you already."

* * *

The Writer's head banged against her keyboard.

"What?" the Reader asked, slightly annoyed.

"I couldn't write anything after that. I swear, romance escapes me like I'd escape from a burning building."

"So? Keep going."

"Pass," the Writer groaned. "Besides, I'm tired. It's kind of hard to write two battles and the scene where Twirltongue rambles, if you've never tried it before. And besides, I thought you said you didn't like Gregor being the girl?"

"…Yeah…but I can handle it."

"Tough. I vote we get to the jungle. You seem to be intent on getting backgrounds of all the characters, anyways, and I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining how Luxa got to be the Dread Pirate Roberts. Yeah, the next chapter's really going to be something…"


	8. Chapter 8

Gregor and Luxa ran side by side—and it no longer pained Gregor to run, with her holding his hand—until they stood before the vast and towering jungle. Its foreboding presence forced Gregor to stop.

Luxa pointed to the horizon. A group of fliers wandered around drunkenly, not quite sure where they were going. "Your fiancée certainly knows how to command a squadron," she commented.

"She's nothing to me. You know that, right?"

"I know. Nor does she mean anything to me," Luxa said bitterly. "Come, we must hide in the jungle. With any luck she will leave, we will emerge safely on the other side, and my band of fliers can meet us near Regalia." She made to step into the foliage, basking in the light coming from a source Gregor couldn't see.

Gregor's hand tightened, and she stayed put. "Luxa," he said, "I'm not sure we can survive there."

Luxa looked at him oddly. "I suppose you still do not remember." With that sufficiently confusing Gregor, she pulled him into the forest of vines while he tried to figure out what he was forgetting. As always, he concluded that he probably didn't want to know.

"We have only to worry about the vines and the animals here," Luxa explained. "The vines will pull you anywhere they can and rip you to pieces, and what few creatures can survive here are so rabid and starving that they will attack if we make too much noise."

"Thanks, Luxa, that's really encouraging," Gregor said as he glanced around warily. They were fully immersed in the jungle by this point, and he saw no way to escape the light that emitted from the ground—the light that felt like it was a spotlight, calling imaginary predators to him.

"We have nothing to worry about, Gregor." Luxa smiled at him. "I know you can fight your way through anything, and I can as well."

Her hand squeezed his, and the power in her squeeze lent him enough strength to venture deeper into the jungle. "So can I ask you something?" Gregor asked. "How are you the Dread Pirate Roberts, anyways? How did you get a bunch of bats to follow you around and help you steal things?"

"I did not," was Luxa's answer. "You should first know that I used to be…very powerful," she said, studying him. When he gave no sign of understanding, she went on. "Gregor, I used to be the queen of Regalia. My parents died by the claws of the gnawers, and my grandfather Vikus did not want the throne, so I was next in line.

"However, several years ago, when you and I were eleven years old, there was a war. Though we battled and fought and eventually won, there were many—"

"Wait. What do you mean, 'we'?"

"Gregor, you do not remember and I do not know why, but you and I have known each other since you and your sister Boots discovered the Underland. We were far younger then—eleven years old, perhaps—but we went on many adventures across the Underland over the better part of a year."

Gregor soaked this in quietly as Luxa stared up ahead, trying not to show the tears that pricked her eyes. The trouble was that Gregor couldn't remember any sort of experience in the Underland, just like he could hardly remember anything before he moved to Virginia.

"I don't know why I forgot, Luxa. I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe something hit me on the back of the head, or maybe we just had a really vivd dream, but..."

"No, no, it could not be. What I believe is that you were traumatized. Perhaps you were under so much shock, especially after what happened to your bond—well, perhaps that is not important," Luxa said, noting Gregor's shocked face. Gregor had heard of bonds, but he'd never imagined... What flier would agree to die for his sake? "What you need to know," Luxa went on, "is that towards the end of our year together, we fought a very large war. And at the same time as that war, we…we fell in love."

Luxa scanned over the ground with poorly-suppressed sadness. "But you could not stay; your parents had had quite enough. Lizzie had gotten into the Underland too, by that point, as had both your parents, who decided to move your family far away so that you would never experience what you experienced here. I never saw you again."

"And I forgot," Gregor said quietly. "I can't believe I did, Luxa. I should remember _you_ at least. But even with you telling me all this, it's just...it's not coming back to me. Maybe you're right, maybe I was traumatized. Maybe it's because of my bond..."

Luxa didn't look like she could go into that. Gregor softened. "So go on. Why did you find me in the Overland?"

"Certain people were not happy with the way I had run the last war. My cousin and grandmother, in particular, thought the throne should be passed down to someone more worthy. My grandmother orchestrated a series of events in secret, so that her granddaughter, my cousin, would be next in line to be the queen."

"Stellovet?"

"Stellovet. Our grandmother, Solovet, is thought to be dead, but she is very much alive, and I imagine that the only people who know it are me and those who have been killed in order for Stellovet to be put into power. Solovet set up a false conflict in the spinners' lands so that I, my bond Aurora, and my brother Hazard would travel across the Waterway to make peace. It was then that Solovet appeared on a flier and forced Aurora down, with me and Hazard on her back. We landed amidst a pack of gnawers with the intent of murdering us.

"Aurora proved herself to be extremely brave. She swept up me and Hazard and tried to take us to the fliers' lands, where Queen Athena would surely grant us sanctuary. Solovet and the band of gnawers followed us, however, and so we entrusted Hazard with a group of fliers on the way to their home before Aurora took me further into a lonely corner of the Underland. Solovet sent the gnawers after Hazard and chased after me and Aurora, riding the flier she had met us on.

"I told Aurora to take me up to the entrance that Gregor—you—had used back when we knew you. I did not expect you to be there, but I needed to escape into a place where I could get lost and where Solovet could lose me. Aurora swept up and pushed me into a hole in the ceiling. To you, it would appear a hole in the floor of the laundry room. But Solovet caught up to us just as soon as I had made it inside. I pushed the grate back into place, and when Solovet knew she could not reach me, she made sure I was watching. And she stabbed my Aurora.

"I covered the hole with one of those large white machines and I sat there, crying. This was where you found me, Gregor, but I could hardly believe you could not remember me. I still cannot. Hopefully, in time, you will understand what we have gone through together, even if you cannot remember it first-hand. But I was extremely thankful that you at least took me in. I would not have to be lost. But I constantly mourned for Aurora, and I could not help but think of Hazard and wonder if he made it out alive.

"Do you remember the day an old woman appeared in the laundry room, the same day you told me you loved me? It was Solovet that found me there. I could not believe I had let my guard down enough to think that she would not follow. I knew that she wished to lure me into the Underland and kill me like she had intended to. Remember, this was so that Stellovet could have the crown and I could be proven dead instead of missing. However, she could not do it with you present and risk you remembering the Underland and returning to stop her. So she tried to tell me of my people suffering, and I knew she was right. So I ran. I knew I could not follow her, but I could not forgive myself for leaving the Underlanders.

"It was the best thing you could ever do, Gregor, to be with me that day. Not only did your presence keep Solovet from murdering me then and there, but your words… I was never happier to learn that you loved me. But it was then that I realized I had spent too much time in the Overland, if you had finally learned to care for me. So I had you take me to the place called Central Park because the entrance to the Underland looked over the Waterway, where I wanted to go.

"When you closed the boulder over my head, I stayed in the cavern beneath it for a few hours, waiting for a flier to pass and constantly thinking of you. I knew that I wanted you to see me be queen once more; perhaps it might have reminded you of old times. And besides, I knew that Stellovet would never be a good enough ruler, and that my people were likely suffering. I decided that I needed you to think me dead, so about a week later I was given paper by the real Dread Pirate Roberts. With it, I made up a story about my death at Roberts's hands, and I had one of his fliers take me to your landry room so I could deliver it myself."

"I wish you would have at least told me the truth," Gregor said, "that you needed to be away from me for a while."

"But Gregor, that would have hurt you more than my death."

Gregor struggled to correct her, but knew she was right. "So how'd you get to be the Dread Pirate Roberts, then? What happened to the real one?"

"It was mainly a stroke of luck. A flier flew by my hiding place above the Waterway and was about to escort me to his home in Regalia, when the real Dread Pirate Roberts appeared with his group of fliers. What I told you about my encounter with him was true. I did say please, and I did explain to him some of the reasons why I had to return to you. He had no idea that I was going to bid you goodbye and that I would not see you for some time. But then, I had a hard enough time admitting that to myself.

"When I finally admitted that I was the former queen, he was intrigued enough to tell me that all of the Underland was on the lookout for me, and that I had best come to his secret hideout. It turned out to be in a cave not too far from your laundry room, near the crawlers' lands. The flier that had found me over the Waterway was a rogue one who gladly joined Roberts' band of fliers.

"Roberts told me that with Stellovet in charge, her power over all the military would ensure that I would be killed if I was ever seen in public. Thankfully, he and his group of fliers were not law-abiding, soldiers, or even under the power of the Underland rulers. He said I had to bide my time, and since he wanted me on the throne again, he would help me. I thought at first that he wanted a queen on his side, so then when I was back in power he could do what he pleased.

"He started out simply, having me accompany him—dressed in a spare black mask of his—as he robbed any group of delegates that he could. It upset me each time to see what the people of my kingdom had resorted to: petty crime and thievery. One day I came to Roberts and said, 'I will be forever grateful for the home, the food, and the experience you have given me, but I cannot stand by as you steal from your fellows. I wish to leave your band of criminals, and if you wish to kill me, I will fight you.'

"Roberts laughed at that, and he took off his mask. Standing there was my brother, Hazard. You see, when Aurora and I had left him with a band of fliers, we had assumed they were honest fliers. They were not honest, but thieves, Hazard told me, desperate to find some sort of living. They took Hazard in, if only because he showed enough promise as a linguist that they could rob people like the crawlers and the spinners. But when they heard that I was missing and Stellovet was to be queen, Hazard persuaded them to steal only from the rich that followed Stellovet's rule in order to make a statement."

"Where'd he get the name?" Gregor asked. "'The Dread Pirate Roberts'?"

"Hazard had heard of pirates—we had a few in worse times—and so he decided to bring back the old tradition. He believed that if he added 'dread' to his title and proved it to be true, people would be more willing to obey him rather than be killed. It worked; when we took over caravans and boats, we were often very powerful because of Hazard's reputation. And as for the 'Roberts' part, he remembered that a particular woman had that surname: his mother.

"I asked Hazard why he had not told me he was a well-known robber now, when all this time he could have told me he was alive. He smiled at me and said that I could have seen it myself. If I had not been so blinded by my disgust of his thievery, I could see that his hand—which was never trained in battle—trembled as he held a sword to the necks of those we stole from.

"Convinced that I was suitable to rule, he passed on his black mask to me permanently, and I began directing a series of threats towards Stellovet's power, namely riots and vandalism."

"Wait, that was you? The red paint?" Gregor remembered the call for Stellovet's death that he'd seen on the walls of Regalia, moments before Twirltongue and her cohorts had kidnapped him.

"I am glad someone saw it." Luxa smiled wryly. "That was rather desperate of me, to be honest. Despite borrowing Hazard's name, I had no power in Regalia, and was therefore not very successful. I began to work separately from the fliers when I learned that Gregor the Overlander himself was arriving to the Underland. I thought that perhaps you had come to look for me—and I am pleased to know that you were, in your own way—but Gregor, if my face had not been covered when I learned of your engagement, I am not sure the fliers that followed me would have respected me anymore, if only because I felt so broken and powerless.

"That was easily contradicted, though. I had some of my fliers infiltrate the palace, and when I learned that you had been kidnapped, I took a raft that we had in our hideout and set after you. Hazard is currently directing my band of fliers, and as soon as we return to them, we may fight back for my throne with you by my side."

"And I won't have to marry Stellovet, right?"

"I would not want it any other way," Luxa said with a slight grin.

Gregor returned the grin, and it was in this moment of lapsed attention that Gregor's foot disappeared into the ground, followed by his body in hardly a second.

Luxa wasted no time or breath calling out, but tied a vine around her waist and dived into the quicksand before the vines could realize that prey had just willingly attached itself to it. A minute of silence and stillness echoed in the jungle. A nibbler—lost and wandering—meandered through the space, stared at the bunch of vines a moment, and left.

Suddenly, a head broke free of the ground—Luxa's. With one arm she secured Gregor to herself; with the other she tugged on the vine, tricking it into thinking that she was trying to get away. The vine yanked not one but two victims from the ground and pulled them into the air. Just ahead of them, a swarm of vines resembling a tree trunk opened up to devour them whole. It was then that Gregor came back to conciousness, stole Luxa's sword, and cut the one suspension between them and the ground.

The two landed with a thud, to be greeted by a clearing full of neon green vines as vicious as snakes. Gregor only took a dazed Luxa by the hand and ran with her through the jungle until they were a safe distance away from the carnivorous plants.

"So," Gregor said, panting, "thanks for getting me out of there."

"No thanks are necessary. But mind where you step, please," Luxa said. Neither she nor Gregor realized that they had run into the territory of a certain nibbler that had just passed by the plant that almost ate them. The nibbler watched them from the shadows, inching closer.

"Does this happen all the time?" Gregor asked, examining the sand that covered him from head to toe. It reminded him of the amusement parks he used to go to with Boots and Lizzie, where you could get practically anything smothered in chocolate and nuts. Not that he knew, but the nibbler licked its lips from its hiding spot, imagining Gregor to be something equally delicious.

"I once found you waist-deep in a pool of quicksand," Luxa said, "when you were searching for—"

The nibbler sprung from its hiding place, yelling the only words it remembered in a sort of battle cry: "Where are the others!"

* * *

"Cartesian?" the Reader asked exasperatedly.

"Maybe…"

"Do I want to know how he came back?"

"Probably not."

* * *

This nibbler remembered nothing apart from these words of English and how to attack, which it did. Spying the sword, he pounced for Luxa—the most likely attacker—and dug his teeth into what he hoped was her neck. Luxa landed on her back and wrestled with the nibbler and its humongous teeth, while Gregor tried desperately to pull it off. Finally Luxa got a good grip on her sword and shooed the nibbler away with the sword in her hand and the ferociousness in her eyes.

Gregor came forward and helped her up, tenderly avoiding the gash in her shoulder where the nibbler had bit her. "Are you okay?"

"No worse than I was the first time I came here," Luxa said. "Come, the end must be near, and I would like to live to see it."

They walked on, Gregor supporting Luxa, both of them looking out of the corners of their eyes for anything suspicious. When they saw darkness hiding behind the vines up ahead, they knew they had made it.

Limping out into the openness of the rest of the Underland, Gregor and Luxa breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. "The Arch of Tantalus," Luxa whispered. "We are very close. All we must do is find Hazard now, and—"

"Yes, but that might be difficult, cousin."

Gregor froze, while all Luxa did was narrow her eyes. Gregor's eyes now adjusted to the darkness, and apart from seeing a primitive arch made of bones in the distance, he now realized that several fliers and men with swords stood in a semi-circle before them.

"Ah, Luxa," Stellovet said as she stepped forward, her trademark smirk still on her face, "I thank you for delivering my fiancé to me safely. He means much to me, and I would hate to see him killed by such evil gnawers."

"I wonder, then, what those 'evil gnawers' wanted with your fiancé," Luxa spat, "because they certainly have no personal reason to murder him."

Stellovet frowned. "You are hurt," she said. "I would hate to see that wound become the cause of your death. Perhaps we can speed things up?" She snapped her fingers, and two soldiers unsheathed their swords and started for Luxa.

Gregor stood in front of Luxa, before anyone could do anything. "Promise you won't hurt her."

"Excuse me?" Stellovet and Luxa said at the same time.

"Just say she'll be okay," Gregor said to Stellovet, "and I'll go with you. You can marry me or kill me or whatever, but Luxa has to live."

Stellovet exchanged looks with another, far older soldier. The soldier seemed to be agreeing with Gregor. "Very well," Stellovet said, "you have my word."

"Gregor," Luxa whispered as one of the soldiers put away his sword and took Gregor to sit on a flier.

Gregor didn't look back. If Luxa could tell him she was dead, then Gregor could leave Luxa for Stellovet. He had to figure out some sort of plan, but he had confidence that he could. It was for the best; if he pretended to be on Stellovet's side, then he could get close enough to strike her where it hurt. He could get Luxa back on the throne, if he played along for now.

He hoped so, anyways.

"Come, Gregor, we must see you safely home," Stellovet said, and with a gesture to the elderly soldier, all but two soldiers and the elderly one took off on their fliers and left for Regalia. The two soldiers took out their swords and held them to Luxa's neck as the elder soldier looked down at her.

Luxa sighed. "Why is it that when we meet, Solovet, Gregor is always present?"

"Sometimes I think you use him as a shield," Solovet said with a smirk. "Did I not teach you better than that, Luxa?"

"Says she who must hire a special group of soldiers. Are they the only people who know you are alive?" Luxa glanced over her grandmother in disguise, and her eyes fell on a dagger on her waist. "Your dagger has the inscription of a dragon," she noted. "A flier is looking for you."

"Whoever it is, I will not be found. I have hidden well so far, have I not?"

With a nod from Solovet, one of the soldiers knocked Luxa unconscious.


	9. Chapter 9

Luxa stirred and awoke only to glare at whatever was prodding her wounds. She would have gladly stabbed the thing that pressed into her bloody shoulder and various battle scars, but it didn't feel like her sword was with her, and it was cloth that made her wounds sting so much.

Her eyes opened into slits; even torchlight was a little too harsh for her liking. Her head both spun and throbbed, but she could make out the incredibly thin hooded figure with a bowl of water and a roll of bandages, dabbing at her shoulder.

"N-Nerissa?" Luxa moaned. The hooded figure looked up from Luxa's shoulder enough to look into her cousin's eyes.

"Do not…" Nerissa cleared her throat. "Do not move."

"Oh, Nerissa, what have they done to you?" Luxa made to reach for her cousin's hand, but the searing pain in her shoulder kept her from moving an inch. She hissed. "Nerissa, are you well? Are they keeping you hostage? Where are Howard and his siblings, and where is Vikus?"

Nerissa shushed her. "They are all alive and well—except for Vikus, but I imagine you have heard that while on your travels." She smiled slightly; she knew what Luxa had been up to. "Stellovet and Solovet knew that I would be better off under their control. And after all, I foresaw this dungeon."

Luxa became aware that she was lying in the middle of a cold, dark room with a single torch and a large machine that took up half the room, towering coldly and imperiously above her.

"They and I are the only ones who know how to get in and out of these dungeons," Nerissa said. "Solovet spends much of her time in the chambers beyond this room, chambers that Stellovet secretly built for her. And I live here doing menial tasks."

"Nerissa, that is not right. You should not be here."

Nerissa shrugged slightly. "It is far better than what would happen if I left. I worry more for you, cousin."

Luxa eyed the machine. "Why? What is to happen to me?"

"I have seen Solovet test the machine. It is meant to threaten the enemy, interrogate, and kill—if necessary," Nerissa added in a hurry, as if Luxa was afraid. "Luxa," she went on, "I have seen what it does. I could kill you now, if you want. You would thank me, Luxa."

Luxa shook her head. "I can handle torture."

"Do not let your previous experiences with death blind you. One may survive the jungle, but no gnawer nor flier nor human ever survives the machine."

* * *

Gregor had collapsed upon returning to Regalia, determined not to remember Luxa and the torn look in her eyes as he flew off with Stellovet. Besides, if he was really lucky, he might have a dream about the Underland and the adventures that Luxa had told him about. He'd had weird dreams before, full of giant animals and darkness. So it felt like dreams would be the best place to start.

He didn't have any luck the first night. Instead, he woke up from a completely blank sleep and was told by a servant that Vikus had died.

* * *

"Oh, and now you're going to play the 'it's just a dream' trick on me, right?" the Reader asked.

The Writer shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I didn't exactly have Gregor pulled from the Waterway, if you'll recall. But if this wasn't a dream, how would I get the girl who's going to boo him down here?"

"Wait, who's going to boo?"

"I really wish you'd ask these questions in your head and let me get on with things."

* * *

The rest of the day passed by in a blur as Gregor spaced out, trying to remember if he knew Vikus. Regardless of whether he did or not, Stellovet and Gregor would have to get married that day so the humans would still have a king and queen. So Gregor spent his time standing still, combing his memory, and half-listening as various servants measured him and shuffled him here and there and explained things that went right by him. Wouldn't a name like Vikus stick out to him? Did his family ever say anything about a Vikus? Gregor frustrated himself to the point where he was standing at the altar and glowering as Stellovet came down the aisle.

Of course, he put on a brave face for the wedding and tried to look happy. The wedding dissolved from the High Hall, and every guest moved to the throne room to see the king and queen crowned. The deed was quick, but Gregor had never felt anything heavier than a crown meant for Luxa.

He stood up, smiled, and waved at the applauding delegates and royalty standing before him, with Stellovet at his side. As they took each other's hands, the group before them (standing in a room packed to the brim) erupted into cheering. Except for...

"Booooooooo!"

It came from the back, towards the door. While Stellovet's smile froze, Gregor frowned and waved his hand over the audience with a signal to cut it out.

"Booooooooooooo!"

"Who's doing that?" Gregor called out. The very full audience managed to clear a path as a young girl came up to stand before Gregor. Though he towered above her with his crown and his position at the top of the stone steps, this girl intimidated him with her glare.

"Booooooooooooo!" she crowed and folded her arms. This time, the call echoed.

"…Boots?" Gregor's knees suddenly felt weak. His little sister, hardly old enough to be in middle school, had somehow gotten to the Underland. "Boots, what are you doing here?"

"I can't _believe_ you!" she said indignantly. "Boooooooooooo!"

"But…I'm the king. What's wrong with being the king? Why are you booing me?"

"You're the king, but she's the wrong queen!" Boots pointed an accusing finger at Stellovet, whose smile had melted away to be replaced with a steely look. "How can you hold her hand when Luxa's hands are bleeding and sore all because of you?"

"She didn't have to go after me—"

"But she did, because she loves you, and she's loved you since before you can remember!" Boots threw up her hands exasperatedly. Her classmates had begun to act like teenagers, but Gregor had never seen her imitate them until now. "I can't believe you, Gregor, taking the crown when Luxa should have it with you!"

"She's gone now—"

"She's alive, but you're marrying the wrong queen even though she lives! That makes you the king of nothing, and that's what you'll be! The king of nothingness and emptiness and lovelessness! Booooooo! Booooooooooooo!"

It was about here that Gregor jolted awake in his bed. Vikus, he knew, was still alive, and Boots was probably still safe in Virginia with Mom, Dad, and Lizzie. But Gregor didn't like the sound of her tone, dream or no dream. It was like she wouldn't let him marry anyone but Luxa.

* * *

"Well duh…"

"Oh, be quiet," the Writer said. "You're getting a bit too smart, what with you knowing that this was a dream. If you're so smart, you can do this."

* * *

Gregor, come to think of it, completely agreed with his sister. It was with this attitude that he stomped through the halls, continuing to get lost until he stumbled into Stellovet's chambers.

Stellovet sat up from her seat at a desk (with several rolls of parchment spread before her) and smiled at him sweetly. "Why Gregor, what a pleasure it is to see you looking so well after your—"

"Forget it, Stellovet," Gregor said. "I just now realized that if there's anyone I'm going to marry, it's Luxa. I love her, and I think I have since before I've known her. If you want to kill me for getting out of our engagement, you're going to have to try and catch me first, because I'm going to fight my way out. While I was being kidnapped I learned that I'm a rager, so I'll take on any guards you send after me and kill every one of them."

"But Gregor, you do not care to kill the innocent."

"Anyone keeping the real queen from her throne isn't innocent to me."

Stellovet considered him for a moment. "Very well. Luxa is somewhere in the Underland, lost to all allies we have. If you will write four copies of a letter, I will send the four fastest fliers in different directions. Should we find Luxa, we will deliver your letter to her in peace. If your letter persuades her to return to Regalia, I will step down from the throne and allow you both to ascend it as the king and the rightful queen. However, if Luxa cannot be found or if she denies her love for you, our engagement and marriage will proceed as planned, and we will rule with no interruptions."

"What's in it for you if you step down from the throne?"

"The pleasure of knowing that you are in love and content."

Gregor said a word that Stellovet didn't understand, but he said it in a mean enough tone that she decided he didn't believe her.

"Gregor, I…I have grown rather fond of you." She stepped up towards him with a shy smile. "Your kidnapping has made me aware of just how much I care for you. I would not have another king beside you, so regardless of your wife, I wish for you to be on the throne. Even if I cannot be beside you."

Gregor blinked. "…Yeah, well, I'll write those letters." He turned to leave, trying to pretend that he knew the way back to his room.

"Oh, and Gregor?"

"Yeah?" He turned.

"How did you come to remember the Underland?"

"I didn't remember. But I love Luxa too much to not believe her." He left Stellovet's chambers, and at nearly the same, Solovet appeared by Stellovet's elbow. Little did Gregor know, but grandmother and granddaughter had been talking the minute before Gregor's loud footsteps had echoed through the halls.

"That is quite an extreme offer you have made," Solovet commented. "I would be upset that you would give up the throne so readily, if I did not know that Luxa would never be found."

"We are in luck that he still does not remember the Underland, or else he might actually start looking for her," Stellovet said. "And how are your experiments working, Solovet?"

"Luxa cannot let the machine out of her sight. Hopefully she will be curious enough to submit willingly to it when I begin."

"When has Luxa ever let curiosity overcome her determination to survive?"

"True. We shall just have to experiment on her without her cooperation, then."

"See that you do. I feel Gregor will not rest until I provide the body of his beloved."

"Do you not want to accompany me?"

"You know that I would love to, but I am afraid I have a wedding to plan, an Overlander to murder, and the gnawers to frame for it. I am too busy."

"You know, it is Luxa's fault that Gregor is not yet dead."

"Give her an extra round with the machine for me," Stellovet said in a way that dismissed her grandmother.


	10. Chapter 10

Solovet crept silently through the halls, down winding stairways and through doors that hid in the walls, until she reached her extremely private chambers. She stepped into the room with the machine and examined her two granddaughters. Nerissa was curled up in the corner, her head in her hands, well aware of what was coming. Luxa lay on her back, hardly changed except for the wires that Solovet had instructed Nerissa to place on her. The wires held to Luxa's skin with a sort of paste (except for the wires forced into her mouth and ears, which held on their own). Luxa herself appeared to be doing nothing more than staring at the stone ceiling.

Luxa had a plan, secretly. She hadn't confided it in Nerissa because her cousin would disagree with this method. But all Luxa was going to do was take her mind from the situation. She would focus solely on her memories, and while she lay in Gregor's living room stroking his hair, her body could rot for all she cared. Luxa would not feel pain, she decided—not if her mind was detached from the suffering body.

"It is a pleasure to see you alive, Luxa," Solovet opened, "despite that you are standing in the way of our victory."

"I do not see why you must stoop down to working with your spoiled granddaughter," Luxa said, rearranging the wire in her mouth so she could speak.

"Do not move that wire," Solovet said. "And if you must know, the minute Stellovet is crowned queen—and let us understand that I cannot be the queen—I will be allowed to come from hiding. From there, I may take command of my army once more, and together we may return to war as it was meant to be. Peace with the gnawers is not the right answer, Luxa. We must be one step ahead, because those brutish gnawers must always remember—"

"A thought occurs," Luxa said almost lazily. "Perhaps you are waiting until Stellovet is queen because in order for this to happen, Vikus would have to be dead. I do not imagine you could look him in the eye, if you have managed to thrive for so long without his knowledge."

"Did I not say to not move the wire?" Solovet said. "And yes, I have thrived."

"I see you ignore my question."

"In fact," Solovet went on, "I have developed beyond the ways of war. Certainly I understand it, but war does not defeat the spirit of a gnawer quite like my machine." She stroked the lumbering pile of levers, pulleys, and metal that had been keeping Luxa company since she woke here. "It is beautiful, and ingenious, if I may compliment myself. And it is quite effective. Is it not, Nerissa?"

Nerissa shook her head, her hands still covering her face. She had seen all too well what that machine did.

Solovet frowned and sent Nerissa out, allowing the frail girl to flee down the hallway. "Nerissa does not care for this system," Solovet continued, "but I quite enjoy how one moment with this machine will force an enemy to confess anything. Betray anyone. And if the will is strong…" She fingered the key lever, with labels from one to fifty. "There is always another level that is stronger."

"What does it do?" Luxa asked.

"Ah, you are curious."

"One would be, from the way you go on about it."

"My machine drains life. Each level represents a year of one's life taken away, because the power—it is entirely water-run—is so strong that a body cannot outlast it. However, I have not perfected this. I have tested with a few different animals, but you are the first human I have been able to get a hold of. If her majesty does not mind, I would like you to be the first to experiment. You can explain to me what it is like to be in my machine, and I can adjust accordingly."

"Solovet, I never knew you were a scientist."

"Call it what you will, but it is important to me that I allow enough pain to break the spirit, but not enough to break the body—unless I wish to, of course. So in order to help future subjects have a more peaceful life, will you tell me honestly what you feel of this machine?"

"I will try."

"Thank you. I will start on the first level, so you will lose one year of your life. It should not matter to you, I believe, as you will not be queen and will not need to live long enough to rule."

"Must you remind me?"

"I could not resist. I am about to start the machine, so please prepare to talk about your experience." Solovet had been fingering the lever with the numbers for the past couple of minutes, and now slowly, almost ceremoniously, she pushed it into place at the first setting.

Luxa closed her eyes, willing herself back to the small, cold apartment where Gregor sat before her, telling her he loved her. She saw the golden flecks in his otherwise brown eyes, saw the trace hairs that covered his forehead as he gazed at her in a mixture of confusion, joy, and—

She plunged underwater. Suddenly her lungs would not take in air, her skin burned with aching cold, her mind returned to her body by default as her instincts screamed at her to free herself from this. Her limbs trembled, and her eyes snapped open as the machine whirred next to her, swirling and spitting water. Her head spun around her as her body jerked about, trying to free itself of restraints that held her in her weakness. And all Luxa knew was that none of these reactions were her own; her body took it upon itself to embody a pain she could never escape. Her mouth opened, desperate to breathe, aching to inhale…

Solovet stood passively in the corner.

The machine slowed and hummed to a stop, and Luxa's body fell limp as she panted deep gasping breaths.

"That was roughly fifteen seconds of the machine sucking your life through these wires," Solovet explained as she fingered one of the wires on Luxa's stomach. "Now please tell me, in the interest of improvement, exactly what it was like."

Luxa tried to keep it in, but could not respond with anything but helpless tears.

* * *

"Howard!" Stellovet smiled from her seat when her older brother entered her chambers.

Howard, though adamant about refusing the crown, did support his sister. Though he mourned greatly for his missing cousins Luxa and Hazard, he suppressed his grief by devoting his life to medicine; as a result, he was renowned as one of the best doctors in Regalia and a very loyal man. This and his ignorance of today's politics made things a lot easier for Stellovet, for she could convince Howard to do things he wouldn't do, had he known the whole truth.

"Stellovet," Howard said with a weary smile. "Why have you called me to your chambers so abruptly?"

"I am sure you have heard of my marriage?" Stellovet said as she stood up.

Howard gave her a hug. "I am very happy for you, sister. Although your choice confuses me…"

Stellovet shrugged. "I have known Gregor since we were young, and as long as I have known him, he seemed to show nothing but the traits of a king. This is why I care to make Regalia as hospitable as possible for my new husband."

"Do I have something to do with this?"

"I trust you greatly, Howard. In a life full of traitors and threats, I can only trust my family. And with Father busy at the Fount and Mother caring for Vikus, I thought I might turn to you. I want you to head a small squadron and rid the Thieves' Quarters of all its criminals."

"A squadron? To clean out an area of Regalia?"

"My fiancé was kidnapped once before, Howard, and I do not wish for it to happen again. I will give you any number of soldiers you desire, so long as you will head the efforts to clear out the criminals and lock them away."

"No, sister, I do not care to lock criminals away. And I do not care to lead soldiers, either. I do not think I could."

"Oh, Howard, you have so much more potential than you imagine." Stellovet looked up at her brother with a shy smile. "From what I hear, you are extraordinary at dividing the nurses and arranging patients' beds and blood donations so that more may be done. You are an organizer, a strategist even. And you are the only one I can count on."

Howard paused. "Oh, very well. Give me some thirty soldiers and I will see the job done tomorrow."

Stellovet smiled in glee. "Oh, thank you Howard! You do me a great service."

Howard smiled at his sister and excused himself to his chambers to make a plan. When he had left, Stellovet frowned to herself. "We shall have to hire a few more. With all the soldiers sent to the gnawers' lands, I have not thirty to spare…"

* * *

Howard frowned as he looked over the huddled masses that his soldiers had herded like cattle. What exactly constituted a criminal? Howard tried to ask one of his subordinates, who—upon seeing that his leader was inferior—promptly ordered every person in the area to be arrested. The subordinate reasoned that people in the Thieves' Quarters had no reason to be there unless they themselves were thieves.

Of course, they might have been able to tell who the criminals were, Howard learned, if they struggled in any way. This was one of those cases.

"Sir, a black flier is resisting our attempts," a soldier with two daggers reported to Howard. "He severely wounded another man and threatened to kill him. We only just managed to get this man away to safety, but the flier remains."

Howard thought for a moment. "Force him out," he said in his best authoritative voice. "Surely you can take him before he kills?"

"Surely," the soldier said, not entirely convinced. "We might do well with another, stronger soldier."

Howard looked over the soldiers that held captive the "thieves". "Gnawer," Howard said, and a sooty black rat lifted its head. "You call yourself 'B', correct?"

"That's me," the gnawer said, rather zealous. He bounded over in his gigantic size. The soldier with two daggers looked the gnawer up and down warily.

"He will do quite nicely," Howard said to the soldier while smiling at the gnawer, B, who grinned back. This gnawer had been on the streets when Howard found him, pitied him, and offered him a job helping out with the evacuations. Howard was short a man, and thought a gnawer might help break up the fights. B just looked happy to get a job—the poor gnawer must have been starving.

"Come, 'B'," the soldier said, and lead the gnawer from Howard and down a few streets until they both heard the commotion.

"We mean no trouble!" one soldier called to a flier that was whirling around at the two soldiers backing him into a wall.

"Come no closer," the flier responded, "for I do mean trouble! Oh, if my bond could see these soldiers turn on me…"

"All we wish is to take you with us," the other soldier tried to say in a soothing tone.

"My corpse, perhaps, but never me!"

The soldier with two daggers sighed as he entered the scene. "Come now, Benvolio, Mercutio! We have the gnawer with us, so now let us take this flier by force!" The soldier gestured for B to charge, but the gnawer simply blinked at the flier looking around frantically.

"Gnawer?" one of the soldiers (Benvolio) asked.

"I wouldn't touch him, if I were you," B said.

The flier's eyes widened. "Bane?"

B smiled. And then he knocked the soldier with two daggers on top of his head. The soldier collapsed, and when Benvolio and Mercutio advanced with their swords, the flier hissed and pounced for them at the same time as B—or rather, Bane. Three unconscious soldiers lay side by side a minute later, as Bane shook off the coat of soot and revealed his white pelt. He engulfed the flier in a hug.

"Ares! I thought I would never find you!"

"I thought you or the woman in black had perished," Ares said, returning the hug. "I have never been happier to see you!"

Bane lifted up one of Ares' wings and noticed its quiver. "Why are you shaking?"

"I…I found a wonderful drink," Ares said before he hiccupped. With the confrontation done, he now appeared a little unsure on his feet. "The humans call it many things, many interesting names. Whisky, wine, alcohol, spirits, beer…"

Bane frowned and stepped back. "No, Ares, those are horrible! Someone told me about a gnawer who was addicted to those drinks, and—"

"Bane," Ares said and reached his wing for Bane's shoulder. He reached too far left and swung his wing back, rocking him off balance. "Poor, poor Bane…who cannot even enjoy a drink…" He swaggered until his body couldn't take it and fell unconscious.

Bane looked around. No soldiers had come to find him yet, but they would if nothing happened soon enough. And though Bane hated to disobey the nice man that had given him a job, Ares meant considerably more to the gnawer. So Bane picked up Ares' limp body, and, quietly as possible, slunk out of the thieves' quarters to nurse his friend to health.


	11. Chapter 11

Fliers have rarely, if ever, been subjected to alcohol, so Bane had no way to foresee how quickly Ares would recover. After setting his friend in an abandoned guard post near Regalia's wall, he gave his friend a sip of water from an abandoned wineskin. After a nap (and a very anxious Bane keeping watch by the door, so no one would come in and see a gnawer with white fur), Ares awoke in a fit.

"Bane, not that I am not glad to see you, but what has _happened_ during my drunken days?"

Bane shrugged. "I woke up after the woman in black knocked me unconscious, and I wandered out to the cliff, where you weren't. I covered myself in soot and tried to sail the boat back, but only when a trade ship found me did I get back to Regalia. I gave them the boat in exchange for passage. I was hoping to find Twirltongue, but I don't think she could be alive if she can't get to us."

"I came to the same conclusion as well."

"Oh, good, I wasn't wrong." Bane sighed in relief. "When I figured that out, I started to look for you. I thought you, at least, might have gotten back to Regalia, because the sword that the woman in black had didn't have any blood. That, and you weren't at the cliff. So I kept looking, but I ended up on the streets because the humans don't like gnawers very much, and one saw a bit of the soot on my fur come off. That was when this nice man with a group of soldiers gave me a job helping empty out the Thieves' Quarters, where I found you. He was going to feed me after this was over…" Bane sighed.

"I am sorry to have distracted you from your meal," Ares said, "and I am sorry that I could not have reached you. I assumed that you had been killed, for I saw neither you nor Twirltongue anywhere. I decided to fly back to Regalia—not over the Waterway, but over land so I would have places to rest. I had no idea what to do with myself, you realize, as everyone I talked to knew nothing of the woman with the dagger with the dragon inscription. So one day a very kind man gave me a glass of something light and frothy, and the next thing I know I am fighting soldiers in an empty street."

"Hmm," Bane said distantly. His thoughts were still on food. The nice man that hired him had even introduced him to a soldier that would take him to get food. This soldier had been awfully mean and ignored Bane, preferring to discuss swords with his friend.

"Now General Solovet," he'd said when Bane tried to greet him, "was someone who had a truly wholesome collection of swords. Her daggers, even, had incredible taste. Some had inscriptions we could never imagine, like one of a tree and another of a dragon. And it may have been my imagination, but when I once reported to Princess Stellovet, I saw on her desk a dagger that could not have been hers, a dagger with the very same dragon inscription that General Solovet's dagger had. But that dagger died with her in battle, so surely it must have been my mind fooling me…"

Bane shot up. "Ares, I have the answer!"

Ares lifted his head slowly. "Again, Bane?"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I have the answer! I know where the woman you have to fight is!"

Ares started up. "Do not forget it, Bane! Tell me more! My life depends on this."

Bane recounted the soldier's rumor, and when he had finished, Ares shook his head. "I cannot believe it. Solovet is dead, and that dagger must be lost. But still, to have one very rare dagger on one's desk…" Ares' eyes widened. "Bane, do you know what this means?"

"Uh…"

"Do not try to answer that. Solovet must be alive! We have seen neither her body, nor her dagger with the dragon inscription. And Princess Stellovet will surely know where this woman is, and so I can kill her!"

"But how can we reach Princess Stellovet to ask?"

Ares slumped back down again. "I do not know. I have no ability to plan. If only we had Twirltongue. If only we had the woman in black! She was truly a worthy opponent, and an extraordinarily bright one."

"And nice," Bane added. "She said I thought well."

"You do," Ares said, but his compliment sounded empty due to his wallowing in despair. A moment passed with the two in silence, until Ares gasped. "That is it!"

"What is?"

"The woman in black is who we need! She must surely have survived, and now we need only to find her!"

"Oh, excellent!" Bane stood up. "Do you feel well? We can go search for her now! She must be somewhere in Regalia, where all the humans are."

"Surely she is," Ares said. And then he muttered to himself, "With the woman's help, there will be blood."

"What?"

"Nothing, Bane. Let us hurry! I can think of no better time to attack the princess than on her wedding day!"

"That's tomorrow."

"Then it is all the more necessary that we find the woman," Ares said, and they departed without another question or doubt.

* * *

"Stellovet?"

Stellovet straightened from what Howard had thought was a sleeping pose but what turned out to be one of intense concentration. His sister's eyes narrowed and then softened as she smiled at Howard and gestured for him to enter.

"Howard, how goes your work?" she asked.

"It is finished. The soldiers and I have left not a sign of life in the Thieves' Quarters." Howard tried to look proud, but he couldn't help but reflect on the three injured soldiers and the gnawer that had gone missing. That flier was gone, at least, and so he could honestly say no one lived in the Thieves' Quarters anymore.

Stellovet scrutinized her brother, and then smiled wider. "I knew you could do it," she said. "If I had known you only needed soldiers, I would have given them to you long ago."

Howard relaxed. "This was a one-time favor, sister. I wish you the best luck that your wedding will go well."

He didn't move. Stellovet raised an eyebrow, sensing he wanted to continue.

"Stellovet, why did you choose Gregor?" Howard finally blurted. "You could have had any man in the Underland, and yet you take an Overlander who once put you down the minute you began to insult Luxa."

"He does not remember what I used to say to my cousin. He does not remember anything at all. I believe this is a good time to make a new impression on him, is it not? For I can see no better person to rule the Underland, but only if he will have me at his side."

"So you didn't mean what you promised, did you?" a voice said from the doorway. Howard and Stellovet turned to find Gregor leaning against the wall, his arms folded as he looked at his fiancée narrowly.

"I…uh, will leave you to your conversation," Howard said, casting a mourning look to Gregor that lasted only a second before he departed. Gregor, oblivious to the fact that he and Howard had once been close, continued to glare at Stellovet.

"My promise, Gregor?" Stellovet asked innocently.

"Your promise that if the fliers found Luxa and she said she loved me, she could have the throne," Gregor said as he came to stand in front of her. He towered over her, yet Stellovet looked at him calmly. "I'll bet you didn't send the fliers out. I'll even bet the letters never left this room."

Stellovet's eyes flickered to her desk for a second, but it was long enough. Gregor followed her gaze to find four folded-up pieces of parchment underneath a map of the Underland, a guest list for the wedding, and a bag of coins with a label he couldn't read.

"I do not see how this should matter," Stellovet said, matching Gregor's cool tone, "seeing as she will never love you again."

"Then I guess you just don't understand love, do you? You can't even love your cousin, your own family, so why me?"

"How many times must I tell you that you are best for the throne?"

"Yeah, well how can I be the best if I can't remember a thing about the place I'm supposed to be ruling?" Gregor snapped. "You know what? This was a stupid idea, coming down here. But I'm going to stay, and you know why? Because Luxa's going to come for me. She'll fight through anything, and together, you and all your soldiers can't keep us from running away."

"Something tells me, Gregor, that she does not want to run away. I have the only two things she would wish for: her beloved," Stellovet smirked, "and her crown."

"And how exactly are you going to keep it that way? Hide behind your soldiers? No wonder I'll make a good king, because you'd be a cowardly queen."

Stellovet's eyes narrowed. "Do not speak to me in that way."

"Why not? You can't do anything. I'm a rager and Luxa's been studying for years, while you've just been cooped up in this castle, lying around while there are people starving. And I've seen those people, so you can't tell me I'm wrong. You're not doing anything as a princess, and as a queen you'll still do nothing!"

"You know nothing of my plans," Stellovet snapped, "and I have told you not to speak to me in that way!"

"Oh, really? If anything, you'd start a war in order to act all high and mighty while your soldiers are the ones battling and dying. And why? Because not a single person loves you. You've got this big castle, but it's completely empty, and you're going to fill it with all the fame and money and glory you can. But it won't ever compare to what I have with Luxa—"

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME IN THAT WAY!" Stellovet screeched. "Guards!" Two soldiers appeared at the doorway, and she dictated her orders while still looking Gregor in the eye with a gaze that should have turned him to ice. "I want the Overlander to be escorted to his chambers. I want him to never leave until I permit him to myself. I want him to have no contact with the rest of the castle or Regalia—no fliers, and no parchment. You are dismissed."

When Gregor had been pushed and pulled out of her sight, she stormed with her fists clenched to the secret passage that Solovet used to access her laboratory. Sure enough, Solovet was still down there, taking notes and examining her machine for flaws. Nerissa curled up in the corner of the room, shamefully avoiding the eyes of Luxa, whose sheet-white face and blank eyes suggested she was all but dying.

Stellovet took Luxa by the hair and hissed, pressing her face into her cousin's view so Luxa could never miss her. "You are in love, are you?"

Luxa nodded once.

"Yes, a love the Underland has never seen before. Nor has the Underland seen a death like yours will be."

With that, Stellovet flew to the machine, grabbed the master lever, and yanked it to—

"Fifty!" Solovet cried, leaping up from her position behind the machine. "Stellovet, no, not to fifty! I have not tested it—"

"I test it now!" Stellovet snapped. It was all that was heard before one long, high, unwavering scream tore out from Luxa's lips.


	12. Chapter 12

Ares and Bane (coated in soot again) had been wandering the city all day, looking for anyone who might know a woman who dressed in all black. They had had no luck, and that feeling of despair was all the more magnified when their highly developed ears heard the scream.

"Ares!" Bane gasped. "What is it?"

"I…I wish I did not know," Ares said. They were sitting against the wall of the palace, where there were fewer guards to shoo them away. Ares's muscles tensed as the scream echoed throughout the stone walls, long and wavering, overpowering even the sounds of the bustling market before them. For a moment, the entire city fell silent until that cry halted and disappeared into the darkness.

"Ares?" Bane prodded his companion. "What do you know about it?"

"That, Bane, is the sound of ultimate suffering. This is the sound my heart made when I awoke in that cave with you and Twirltongue, but without my bond."

"Oh," Bane said. He paused. "You were very quiet about it."

"I know, Bane."

Another pause. "Ares?"

"Yes?"

"Who made that sound?"

"I can only imagine it to be the woman in black. After all, the Overlander she intended to take from us is marrying…today, I believe."

"That's right, we spent the whole day trying to get into the castle…" Bane said thoughtfully. "Does the woman in black love the Overlander?"

"I assume she does. No one would go against Twirltongue unless they were in love or insane."

"Right."

The two took a moment of silence, staring into the street before them, where people chattered worriedly about what beast could have caused such a frightening noise. What the flier and gnawer hadn't noticed was that there was an abandoned cart beside them, propped up against the palace wall. It was this cart that served as a hiding place for the extremely fragile, extremely upset girl who hoisted herself out of a hole inside the palace wall—a secret passageway.

The fragile girl curled up underneath the cart beside the palace wall and began to cry into her knees. A minute or so passed before Ares looked to his side and saw the girl. He inched towards her and the cart, remembering to act calm.

"Excuse me?" he said. The girl looked up and, seeing the black flier (and giant gnawer peeking over his shoulder), widened her eyes. "Can we help you in any way?" Ares asked.

The girl smiled very slightly, as if he was joking. Wiping her eyes, she said, "I believe it is you who need help more than I do."

Ares and Bane exchanged a look. "How do you know?" Bane asked.

"I know many things, Bane," she said. Bane checked himself to see if some of the soot covering his fur had fallen off, but it remained completely intact. Both gnawer and flier turned to the girl with widened eyes.

"I recognize you both," she said, "and your trouble. I can help. Here," she said, patting the stone wall behind her, "is a secret passageway. It will take you to the woman in black."

The two squinted at the wall. There seemed to be no crack of any kind, let alone one shaped like a door.

"Why would you tell us this?" Ares asked.

"I cry for the woman in black—my cousin," the girl said, "although I imagine she does not have the same importance to you as she does to me. Nevertheless, you must help her, in order for her to help you." The girl scooted out from behind the cart and gestured for Ares and Bane to slip in and press against the wall. Ares, with a look of skepticism, considered himself desperate enough to at least give it a try, so he inched himself behind the cart in place of the girl.

He studied the wall silently, and then, on a whim, closed his eyes and prayed: "_My bond, forgive that I do not remember your name or face. I need your help, for I wish to avenge you. If there is truly a way to find the woman in black, help me find it, so that I can possibly pay a tribute to you and all the friendship you have given me. Please help find a way to the woman. Please…_"

He opened his eyes, but still saw nothing. Ares sighed and banged his head against the wall. But the wall, instead of blowing back at his head, moved. A block of the wall had slid backward, granting him access to a tiny hallway lined with the occasional torch.

"Wow," Bane said in quiet awe. "How did you know it was—" He turned to ask the girl behind him, but she had disappeared.

"Gracious as she was, forget the girl," Ares said as he slid into the hole. "Every second we use is a second closer to the perfect time to catch Princess Stellovet."

"When is that again?"

"Her wedding."

Bane and Ares, in single file, marched down the hallway until they stumbled into a series of chambers. One chamber held shelves and shelves of parchment, another contained rows of odd, thin life forms—plants, they realized—and yet one most boasted a huge tank with various sizes of fish. With every room, the gnawer's and flier's fur stood up more and more on end. What sort of person had the ability to make these rooms, or the determination to make them secret? Why would they be secret unless they were for a less-than-good use? General Solovet used to have laboratories to study the curse of the warmbloods, but these couldn't—

It clicked in Ares' head. "Bane," he hissed. "Do you realize who these chambers belong to?"

"Who?"

"General Solovet."

"No!" Bane seemed to shrink a little. Ares had told him about all the wars led by the general, and even the way she had forced her own son to lead an army until his sanity was gone. This part seemed to scare Bane more than any. Ares suspected it had to do with a suppressed memory.

"Yes," he said. "General Solovet used to conduct laboratories to research a plague that almost took the lives of all warm-blooded creatures, and General Solovet still lives in secret. Therefore, these chambers—which nobody knows of—must be General Solovet's, considering that they seem to contain everything from plants to battle strategies."

"Why would the woman in black be down here, then?"

"I do not know."

Bane's question didn't go unanswered for long. They stumbled into one large room with a giant pile of gears, pulleys, levers, tanks of water, and metal, assembled so that it could only be described as a machine. Before the machine, almost like a sacrifice, was a cold, hard bed on which lay—

"The woman in black!" Bane said excitedly. "Wake her, Ares!"

Ares fluttered to her side and brushed a wing across her. He paused, and then nudged her. He leaned closer to her, and after a moment, stood up abruptly. "She is dead."

Bane's smiling face fell. "Is she?"

Ares nodded sadly. He looked down at the fair face of the girl, sighed, and then frowned. Something stirred deep inside his mind.

"Ares?"

Ares, ignoring his friend, swept aside the small amount of silver hair and looked at the girl lying on the table. He lifted her eyelid, and as he looked into the blank violet irises, another memory returned to him. This face, he had known for more than a year. He'd known this face longer than he'd known his bond, back when he was young, back when she was a child…

He knew her.

"Ares, what are you doing—"

"No!" Ares backed up and almost ran into the machine.

"What? What, is she alive?" Bane asked.

"No, no, but…I know her! I do!"

"Really? You know the woman in black? Then tell me!"

"She is Luxa. Queen Luxa."

"…Who? We have Queen Susannah, but no Queen Luxa."

"But we used to, before she mysteriously disappeared and her grandfather had to become King Vikus," Ares said. "I used to know her and her bond. Oh, but it has been so long… Would she remember me?"

"She's dead."

"I refuse to give up so easily on her. We have come all this way. Now think, Bane."

"But Twirltongue told me not to…"

"Never mind Twirltongue. It is only you and me now. What have I told you about politics? Where do queens go when they need help?"

"A council?"

"No, a council would be of no help now."

"Her parents?"

"She has none."

They thought a moment. Bane frowned. "You said something once about a Peacemaker we used to have."

"The Peacemaker! Yes, we must turn to him. He is rumored not to be dead, but to have returned to his home in the Dead Lands. He does not accept visitors, but perhaps with the lost queen, we can persuade him otherwise."

"And then what?"

"He can tell us what to do to bring her back to life. A Peacemaker must surely be as well-studied as that, and we have few other options, seeing as all doctors work for Princess—"

"Wait, Ares, back to _life_? You've gone insane! No wonder you asked Twirltongue if you could leave to find the woman with the dagger…"

"Bane," Ares said, and looked his friend in the eye. "You, I, and Twirltongue awoke fully-grown in a cave covered in blood, with no memory of a life before the present day. We have captured an Overlander engaged to a princess and done battle with a woman who turned out to be a queen. And we were just shown a secret passageway into a palace thought to be impenetrable, by a girl who knew your name. We live in insanity."

Bane paused. "True," he said, then picked up the dead woman (with a whisper of "sorry, your majesty") as Ares set out to find the exit.

* * *

"They're going to see _Ripred?_" the Reader asked.

"Well, sure," the Writer said. "I chose him to take the part of Miracle Max."

"But…why? Why not Howard?"

"Because Howard plays Yellin."

"Who?"

"The captain of the guards."

"Whatever. Why Ripred? What's he going to do?"

The Writer shrugged. "That would be telling. But I will tell you this: Dorothy turned to the Wizard of Oz. Romeo and Juliet turned to Friar Lawrence. Leia turned to Obi Wan Kenobi. Look, it really doesn't matter who you turn to, so long as he or she can do _something._ And besides, Bane and Ares wouldn't exactly be welcome in most of the Underland if they were trying to bring Luxa to life. If Stellovet found them trying to revive Luxa, she'd consider the three of them traitors and kill them on the spot. And with all the doctors and soldiers under her control, they don't have many options. So just trust me when I make them go to Ripred, okay?"

"…Leia and Obi Wan. That was the best you could come up with?"

"Ha ha, so funny. Quiet in the peanut gallery, alright?"


	13. Chapter 13

It had been rather hard to fly with a giant white gnawer and a dead queen, but somehow Ares had managed to get out of Regalia by passing through a giant cavern where fliers lived. Now, as they reached the Dead Lands, Ares finally spoke. "Bane, have you any money?"

"No."

"Has Queen Luxa?"

"Let me check…" Bane shuffled on Ares' back—making Ares wince at the gnawer's weight—as he checked the clothes of the woman in black. "Nothing."

Ares sighed. "Then I suppose we are on the good graces of the Peacemaker."

"Is he mean, Ares?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Nice people would help us."

"I do not know if he is mean or not. I suppose we must find out now." Ares swooped in for a landing in front of a cave that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Bane dismounted with Queen Luxa and looked into the cave.

"Hello?" he called, and his words echoed into the darkness. He turned to Ares. "Are you sure this is the right cave?"

"What other cave is there?"

"Maybe he's taking a walk."

"You haven't changed much, have you, Bane?" a growling voice said from behind them. Their fur flew as they turned to see a scruffy-looking gnawer, smaller than the Bane but folding his arms in a way that suggested he wasn't to be fought with. Ares' eyes widened as he noted the scars over one eye.

"Ripred?" he asked. Recalling the hours he had spent training in secret with Ripred, he bowed his head in respect. Ripred had taught him how to fight back, rather than defend himself from swords and claws.

"Ah, yes, the black brooding bat," Ripred said. "Weren't you the one who wanted to get revenge against a human? Never mind. What brings you and Pearlpelt?"

Bane blinked. "What did you call me?"

"Pearlpelt." Ripred looked at him oddly. "You don't remember any more than your friend does, do you?"

Bane shook his head.

"It figures," Ripred huffed, but then guffawed. "Oh, look, and you've got Luxa! What a surprise. As if things couldn't get any more abnormal."

"Are you the Peacemaker?" Ares asked.

"I _was_, until a certain soldier came back from the dead and swore she would start another war if I didn't leave and let her granddaughter—Stellovet, I mean—take the throne. So thank you very much for reminding me of why I live in a cave, catch fish, and fail to find any way to reenter the city without a large number of soldiers trying to kill me. Goodbye." Ripred started to enter the cave they had just been searching in.

"Wait!" Bane said. Ripred turned. "I don't know how you know me, but I don't think I like you. Maybe you could try to change my opinion? We need you to help us with her," he said, shifting Queen Luxa in his arms.

Ripred smirked. "You really think I want you to like me?"

Bane paused. "…Yes?"

"I suppose you really haven't wised up in the…what was it, a decade since I last saw you? Maybe six or seven years."

"Please, Ripred the Peacemaker," Ares said, "you are the only one who can help us."

Ripred sighed. "Looks, I'm not the one you're looking for. Not only did Solovet threaten to start a war, she threatened to…ah, kill a few people. Surely you won't remember a little girl named Lizzie, or an Overlander by the name of Gregor. But if I can get chased out of Regalia because of a threat like that, and if I lost my rager edge enough that I can't fight my way back in, what use will I be to you?"

"Queen Luxa's dead," Bane pointed out. "There's not a lot you could do that would make it worse."

"She is, is she?" Ripred raised an eyebrow. "That girl doesn't die. She sleeps, maybe, but she's too mean to die. Come in, and we'll see if we can wake her." He gestured for them to enter the cave, and lit a torch clumsily as they stepped in and laid Queen Luxa down on the ground.

"Alright, now…" Ripred muttered to himself, sat on the ground, and began to prod the queen in various places around her head, neck, and chest. Some of it looked like he was searching for a pulse, and other times he seemed to want a reaction. After a minute or so, he sat up. "I thought so."

"What?" Bane asked.

"I saw this all the time on the battlefield. There are two parts of death: being partially dead, and being all dead. If she was all dead, there would be no point to trying to bring her back. But she's only partially dead, so there's a little hope to get her conscious."

"Very well, then what do we do?" Ares asked.

"Ah," Ripred held up a claw. "Mutual need, flier. You may need her awake, but I happen to need a few things of my own. Do you have any money?"

"I do not see what you would need it for," Ares said.

"Trade, of course. It's nice to indulge sometimes and have bread instead of fish. But since you don't appear to have anything…" Ripred scrutinized the queen for a moment, and then leaned down and yelled into her ear: "Luxa! Why are you still alive?"

"Can she hear you?" Bane said.

"She'd better. If she's partially dead, that means she's hanging onto life for some very important reason. And if she's that stubborn, she can probably get enough control over her body to—"

"True…love…"

Three heads turned to Queen Luxa's still form, as the last word escaped her lips. A moment of silence followed, and then Ripred started laughing.

"Luxa…in love! Oh, that's just great! Next thing you know, I'll dye myself green and ride a crawler over the Waterway!"

"Will you help her find her beloved?" Ares asked tentatively.

"What? No, no, Luxa doesn't need _love_. She must be lying, because that girl couldn't love if—"

"_Ripred!_" a voice boomed from inside the cave, and a slender female gnawer emerged from the shadows. With her narrowed eyes and clenched paws, she looked furious.

Ripred stopped laughing, and he backed up a little. "Get back, demon!"

"I'm not a demon! I'm your mate! And I don't think I want to be that anymore, if you're going to ignore what she said just to get out of a little _work_!"

Ares raised an eyebrow at Ripred. "I did not know you had a mate."

"She's delusional," Ripred said defensively. "I found her in the Labyrinth partially dead like your friend the queen, and she just sort of latched onto me once I—"

"You invited me back to your cave," the gnawer scowled, "and I'm not surprised, considering that you were made an outcast because of a little threat from Solovet!"

"Don't say that name, Twitchtip!" Ripred growled.

"What, Solovet?"

"Yes, that! Don't say it!"

"I live here too, and I'll say what I want. Solovet! Solovet!" she said twice more for good measure, while Ripred put his paws to his ears, yelling phrases along the lines of "enough, you scent-seer, or I'll kick you out of my cave and into the middle of the Labyrinth!"

"You let me stay once, and you'll keep me here now. Now," she said, turning her slightly deformed nose towards Ares and Bane, "I may not have the same sense that I used to, but I can still smell that you need Queen Luxa in order to bring down Princess Stellovet and her grandmother with her."

Ripred perked up. "Really? Bring down that she-demon? Now that's a good reward. Now we need each other. Twitchtip, bring me the starshade."

"Starshade?" Ares repeated as Twitchtip went back into the darker parts of the cave. "Is that not gone to the Underland?"

"The cutters destroyed a large amount of it, sure," Ripred said, "but searching for the last of it is easy when you have a scent-seer with half her nose left."

"And when you're bored out of your mind," Twitchtip added as she brought a collection of rolled up leaves to Queen Luxa's side.

Ripred gave a nod of thanks. "And now the chocolate bar."

"Chocolate?" Bane's head lifted slightly. "Where have I heard of that before?"

"You, uh, haven't," Ripred said, but took extra care to keep at least one body between the bar and the Bane. "You see, this is why I need money," he explained to Ares. "It helps me get all kinds of good food."

"Very well," Ares said, "but what are we to do with the starshade and the chocolate?"

"When you need her to wake up, wrap two leaves of starshade around one block of chocolate and feed it to her. It'll keep her awake for upwards of an hour, but she'll need some serious medical attention to get her back to a normal living schedule."

"Can you not do this?"

"Do I look like a doctor? I used to run war meetings, not play with herbs. And I expect to be reinstated to my former position," Ripred added with a glare to Ares and Bane (as if they were the ones that made the choice).

"We will remind Queen Luxa of this if she succeeds in taking back the throne," Ares assured him.

"Not if, when. Remember, she's a stubborn one."

"I packed the starshade and chocolate into a wineskin," Twitchtip said as she hung the string of the wineskin over Ares' neck. "Make sure to get us out of here, will you? He can only take it for so long." She gestured to Ripred, who scowled and thrust the limp body of the queen back to Bane.

Ripred and Twitchtip walked Ares, Bane, and Queen Luxa out of the cave, and Ripred pulled Twitchtip closer to them as they waved at the departing group.

"Well, that was an odd visit," Ripred muttered to Twitchtip.

"Not as odd as your remedy," she murmured back. "Chocolate and starshade? Do you think it'll work?"

"That _would_ be a miracle."

* * *

"So another dead character came back to life," the Reader said. "I bet you're enjoying this."

"Tell me about it." The Writer grinned.

"So how did Twitchtip survive?"

"Ripred brought her back, of course."

"Really," the Reader said skeptically.

"Yes…Ripred's awesome!"

"Sure he is, but don't you think it would have been easier to just do this before Code of Claw, when all these people were alive?"

"Now where's the fun in that? Then Gregor and Luxa still wouldn't have hit puberty, and…Gregor would be marrying." The Writer stifled a shudder. "After all, I wanted Ripred to be the Peacemaker, I wanted only Gregor to be in New York so Luxa could live with him, and I wanted Luxa to be able to rule. That, and it's sort of fun making up various ways to bring characters to life."

The Reader's eyes rolled. "Are there any more dead-characters-come-back-to-life I should worry about?"

"I honestly don't think there are any more characters to introduce. Well…there is the person who's going to marry Gregor and Stellovet, but he lived throughout the series. So no, there's nothing new to worry about. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go on to the grand finale. That is, with a review or two."

"Yeah, whatever."


	14. Chapter 14

"Stellovet, we should consider some extra guards for your wedding."

Stellovet hardly glanced from her papers. If she had been a little less busy, she might have worried about how all this frowning was going to give her wrinkles. "Why would you say that, Solovet?" she asked her grandmother.

"Though you have killed Luxa, her body has mysteriously disappeared, and Nerissa cannot explain why. We might have to take into account that Luxa might not be dead."

"Impossible. I took your machine to the fiftieth level."

Solovet decided not to explain how she had no idea what happened at the fiftieth level. "Regardless, if you increase the guard and do not let uninvited subjects into the castle, it will give the impression that you fear for the Overlander's safety. He has been kidnapped, after all, and just barely escaped his death."

"Yes, it is a shame how he was not simply killed on the spot. I would rather this war with the gnawers be started quickly," Stellovet said with a small sigh. "But perhaps it would be more tragic if my soon-to-be husband was murdered when it appeared most certain that he would be crowned king? Certainly the public would feel more for him, and be more willing to battle with the gnawers."

"In which case, you would have the full support of the humans," Solovet added. "And is that not our main goal?"

"It is, but I do not see why adding more guards to the gate would lead to this war."

"It would show the people that, regardless of our best efforts, the gnawers are powerful and determined to kill us."

"Oh, very well, Solovet. Send someone to double the guard at the gate."

"Is Howard in control?"

"Yes. I asked him for another favor, and so he is guarding the gate to ensure a safe wedding for his sister."

"Excellent." Solovet smiled. "You are quite good at this, you know."

"Convincing others to do what I want? I know. My grandmother passed it on to me." Stellovet smiled briefly at Solovet, before Solovet left to find more soldiers and Stellovet got up to put on her wedding gown.

* * *

Ares had attempted to fly over the palace walls and directly into the wedding, but apparently Princess Solovet didn't trust her subjects enough to make this easy. So Ares was forced to bank and hide in a small shop across from the only gate (used by farmers and tradesmen) that let them into the castle. Bane carried Luxa off the flier's back, and the three of them sat, hiding in the building and hoping the army of soldiers at the gate hadn't seen them. Ares propped the young queen against a wall and took the wineskin off of his neck as Bane looked out the window.

"Ares…" Bane said worriedly. "There has to be sixty men out there."

"It does not matter," Ares said with a grunt as he managed to peel the wineskin open. "We have the queen. Bane, wrap these around the chocolate." He snapped a small square of chocolate from the large bar and held it to Bane along with two leaves of starshade.

Bane gave a small whimper when he smelled the chocolate. "Please tell me I can have some of this," he said as he clumsily sandwiched the chocolate square between the two leaves.

"If we have more, I promise you may," Ares said. "But now, we have only to worry about what this will do to Queen Luxa. Set it in her mouth."

Bane did so and helped her to swallow. They stared at her limp body for a second before Bane said, "Do you think it will work?"

"It had better. Surely the Peacemaker wants his position badly enough to—"

"I will take you both on!" Luxa's eyes shot open, and she looked between the gnawer and flier with a glare. "Come, show me your claws!"

"I guess it worked," Bane said to Ares before turning to the girl. "It's alright, your highness. We don't want to harm you."

"Apparently not," Luxa said, frowning at her sprawled-out body. "Otherwise you would have taken me while I could not move my arms. Or the rest of me…"

Bane cautiously lifted one of Luxa's arms. It was completely limp. Bane waved it around, watching her hands move with his every twitch.

"Never mind that," Luxa snapped. "Why can I not move? Are you still enemies to me? Why are we in this building? And where is Gregor?"

"I am pleased that you remember some things," Ares said. "That may make this easier. Allow me to explain the rest." He paused. "No, there is too much. Allow me to summarize. Gregor the Overlander will marry Princess Stellovet in less than an hour, so we must fight our way into the palace, take the Overlander, and escape after the princess directs me to Solovet, whom I intend to kill."

"That surely does not leave us much time to plan," Luxa noted dryly. She scowled at her finger, almost willing it to do something, and surely enough it twitched.

"You've managed to move your finger," Bane said. "That's very good."

"I need to heal quickly. We cannot afford otherwise. What are our liabilities?"

"There is only one gate we can enter through, and I cannot fly over," Ares said.

"It's got at least sixty men, and Queen Athena's fliers are everywhere," Bane added.

"And our assets?" Luxa asked.

"Bane's strength, your brains, and my fighting skills," Ares said.

Luxa's eyebrows rose. "That is all? If I had a month to plan or fifty men on our side, we could do something. But this is…"

"It is hard, I know," Ares agreed.

"But hurry, because we have to go," Bane said. He'd gotten nervous, and began to make rhymes to feel better. Ares ignored it, but Luxa could only stare at him incredulously.

"Why did he just speak in rhyme?" she asked.

"Let's worry about that some other time," Bane returned.

"Please, Queen Luxa," Ares sighed. "We had to turn to you because you have bested us with your skills. We very much admire it."

"If only we at least had a pirate…" Bane said.

Luxa's eyes got a glint in them. "Again, Bane?"

Bane paused. "…If we only had a pirate?"

"Precisely." Luxa nodded.

"You moved your head!" Bane said happily.

"Never mind that. I _am_ a pirate, but I do not sound like it. Bane, how deep can your voice go?"

"Will this do?" Bane asked with a baritone that almost rumbled the floor.

"Yes, excellent. Can you do it loudly?"

Bane nodded, not exactly following. He looked to Ares, but the flier had no suggestions.

"Outside the window, I see a cart," Luxa said. "Bring it inside and take off the top. I want Bane to be able to stand in it. Ares, take down the cloth from the doorway and see if it will drape around Bane like a cloak. And while you are at work, one of you find me a sword."

"You cannot lift it," Ares warned.

"I do not see how those guards would know that," Luxa said. "Do not stand there—find the materials! We only have less than an hour, so we must work fast!"

Bane looked out the window with insecurity. "But the soldiers—"

"I am your queen, and I say _now!_"

Bane and Ares stood erectly and went to follow Luxa's directions. Bane, as he crept out into the streets to grab the cart, muttered to himself: "Ripred was right. She _is_ too mean to die."

* * *

Gregor stared placidly at himself and his spider-spun formalwear in the mirror. His face was tranquil, but inside he felt like dying. In half an hour his wedding would begin, and once that was done, there would be practically no chance for him to marry Luxa. But then, they'd shared an apartment together without being married. Maybe it would work out.

Now he just needed some way to get away from Stellovet. He initially decided that if Luxa couldn't be found he would marry Stellovet without a fight, but since Stellovet didn't hold her end of the bargain (which was attempting to find Luxa), then why should he? So he probably would have to battle his way out of the castle, with those sixty armed men at the door to fight. And what was more, Stellovet had ensured that all weapons were safely out of his room, the moment he'd told her he knew he was a rager. He was going to have to go without any sword or dagger and simply rely on his instincts to keep him alive against soldiers who wouldn't stop to kill him or take him hostage.

It sounded like a suicide mission. But with Luxa sure to be waiting outside the gate, Gregor had no trouble with this fact.

"You do not look very happy," a voice said from the doorway. Stellovet had appeared in his chambers, and stepped forth to his side so she could take his hand. The reflection in the mirror didn't look right to Gregor at all.

"Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?" Gregor asked distantly.

"Nothing was ever said about the bride seeing the groom," Stellovet said with a gentle smile. "Please try to be excited, Gregor. Things could be far worse."

"Should I be excited that I'm being forced into this?"

"A groom normally is happy to marry, I am told."

"I'm not really normal. But it doesn't matter." Gregor smiled slightly. "Luxa will be waiting for me."

Stellovet looked at Gregor for a second, shook her head, and then kissed him on the cheek and walked out. "_Leave him to his insanity,_" she thought. "_He will soon know who has the upper hand._"


	15. Chapter 15

Howard wasn't entirely sure how he had been tricked into this. He'd rather be watching his sister's wedding along with the rest of his family, but somehow Stellovet had convinced him that he was needed at the gate to the palace. Ah well. At least the soldiers he commanded weren't entirely bad—just a little bored.

That was, until the tranquility of the empty street before them was disturbed by a lone figure that appeared to float towards them. Shrouded entirely in black, the figure stared unwaveringly into the eyes of seemingly all of the soldiers present. All conversation died, and they watched as it slowly but surely crept up to face them.

"Stand your ground," Howard said to the men, not entirely sure what to tell them otherwise.

From the figure resounded a big, booming voice: "I AM THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS."

Howard's breath caught in his throat, and from the looks of some of the other men, he wasn't alone. The figure—the Dread Pirate Roberts—inched ever closer, his face entirely cloaked.

"Do not move!" Howard commanded and took a step forward. "We will attack if you come closer!"

"I AM THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS," the booming man repeated. By now he appeared to be a good twelve feet tall. "THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS."

* * *

Gregor would have thought there to be more pomp and circumstance in an Underland wedding, but Stellovet was the only person to walk down the aisle instead of an entire wedding party (and that walk looked like more of a canter). No one had the appropriate amount of time to "ooh" or "ah" about the bride before she had reached the altar, smiled tentatively at Gregor, and hissed at someone to bring out the officiator.

Gregor looked to the door where the officiator (the person directing the wedding, sort of like a clergyman or a priest) was supposed to enter, but he'd looked about two feet too high. Instead of a human striding through the doorway, a slightly gray cockroach ambled in to stand before him and Stellovet. Gregor had heard Stellovet planning this part of the marriage, but when he'd heard the name "Temp", he'd thought of a human. People's names were weird enough down here, so why not?

"Marriage," was the first word that came from the cockroach. "Marriage be what brings us together, it be."

Gregor tried very hard not to smirk at the weirdest accent he'd heard around here. A look from Stellovet—pretending to be loving but really threatening him—shut up his muffled snicker.

"Marriage be a blessed arrangement, it be. A dream within a dream, it be…"

* * *

"Stand your ground!" Howard yelled to the soldiers. The Dread Pirate Roberts drifted closer still, his shadow almost at the feet of the men up front. The pirate did not move, but his looming presence suggested he was nothing to be trifled with.

Of course, Howard and his men didn't know that the real danger was behind the pirate. Ares, carrying Luxa on his back, pushed the cart with Bane standing still on top. It had taken two black curtains to completely drape Bane, and even then, the gnawer couldn't move lest it fall off.

"Now?" Ares asked, trying not gasp at the effort of carrying a human, standing upright, and pushing a cart carrying a rat that probably weighed several hundred pounds.

"Not yet," Luxa whispered back. "Another call, Bane!"

"MY FLIERS ARE HERE, AND I AM HERE," Bane called in his deep, rumbling voice, "BUT SOON YOU WILL NOT BE HERE."

"You do the real pirate justice," Luxa said.

"Thank you," Bane returned.

"Do not move!" Ares hissed. The gnawer had turned to thank the queen, causing the cart to creak. There could be no creaking if this was to be pulled off successfully. Ares inched them ever closer, and slowly the men inched back in fear of the giant not-pirate.

"Now?" Ares said almost pleadingly.

"Light him," Luxa said. Ares stopped the cart with a shudder and lit a torch rolled up in Bane's tail.

The men in front of the black figure almost sighed in relief as the creature stopped suddenly. Howard smiled to himself; this guarding business might work. Or so he thought until the dark, looming figure with the deep voice burst into flames.

"THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS TAKES NO SURVIVORS," the giant figure announced in murderous tones as the flames licked at the burning cloak. "ALL YOUR WORST NIGHTMARES ARE ABOUT TO COME TRUE."

* * *

At first this cockroach had been funny, but now Gregor almost felt sorry for the poor guy. Temp had no idea how much he was boring the audience, the delegates, the royalty, and Gregor. He just stood there talking, shifting from foot to foot as he continued a speech that seemed to repeat itself over and over. "True love will follow you forever, it will," must have been used at least five times.

A bit of commotion outside the room snapped Gregor back to attention. Several men ran through the hallways, screaming as if their deaths were imminent. Stellovet cast a look to another aged soldier (one Gregor had seen when Stellovet had found him and Luxa outside the jungle), and the soldier immediately departed to settle down the trouble.

Gregor forced himself to look back to Temp. The cockroach had begun to discuss the "heart" now, which was admittedly better than "true love" because there was only one syllable to endure instead of two.

"The heart endures much, it does," Temp said. "And when the loved one goes, where goes the loved, where goes? In the heart, the loved one goes."

"_In the heart, the loved one goes._" Gregor turned that phrase over in his mind. And then, in one blink, he found the phrase again, deep in his memories. He'd been twelve, and he and his friends had just lost a young flier named Thalia. Boots couldn't be told that the young bat was sleeping. So when she asked where Thalia had went, Howard responded after a moment of aching silence:

"Why, she's in your heart, Boots."

It all came back. The Underland, the gnawers, Regalia, Sandwich, his friends, his bond, the princess, the prophecies, Luxa…Luxa…

He remembered.

* * *

"THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS IS HERE FOR YOUR SOULS!" Bane announced, somewhat more panicked now that flames were quickly stealing his costume. The soldiers misinterpreted this panic as rage—perfect.

The soldiers all disappeared in wild panic, leaving only Howard to stand between the gates and the burning cloak. Ares and Luxa emerged from behind Bane, who leaped to the ground and cast off his garments. Howard's eyes widened. Somehow, a white gnawer back from the dead was all the more dangerous.

"Give us the key, Howard," Luxa said, leaning against Ares' wing for support.

Howard blinked. "Luxa? Luxa…is that you?" He took a step towards her and touched her hand.

Luxa smiled slightly. "It is me, cousin. I have returned. And I need you to give me the key to the gate."

"But…why do you have Ares and the Bane with you?" Howard eyed them both (with a bit of fear towards Bane) as they stared curiously back. "Are they not dead?"

"Howard, we have no time for this," Luxa said rather forcefully. "You may be my cousin, but I can still have Bane rip off your legs. The key, please."

Bane looked drawn between listening to the queen and saving the nice man who had given him a job. But he didn't have to answer, because Howard pulled out a key before anyone could get hurt.

"This key, you mean?" he said and pressed it into her hand along with the sword on his belt. "Luck, cousin," he whispered. "I knew you would return." With a slight smile, he ran after the majority of the soldiers.

"How did he know us, but we did not know him?" Ares asked as he set the key into the lock.

"I knew him," Bane said while he lifted Luxa's limp body and carried her through the now-opened gate. "He was the man who gave me a job as one of the soldiers."

"It continues to fascinate me how you two are not only alive, but do not remember a life before today," Luxa said. "We must investigate that after this is finished. But for the moment, tell me, when is the wedding?"

"It has been going on for some five minutes," Ares said.

"Hurry, then. We have less time than I thought to stop it."

* * *

"Temp, not that I do not enjoy your speech, but my love overwhelms me," Stellovet said with a voice like poisoned honey. "May we skip to the end?"

Temp considered this for a second as Gregor examined them all with new eyes. Temp, the fierce protector of his sister…and Stellovet, the fierce tormentor of his love. Even back then, he'd loved Luxa. And he remembered how she'd ended up surviving for months in the jungle. If she could live through that, she could easily survive and find him now, and Gregor would be saved from a girl that he knew to be evil.

"Have you the ring, have you?" Temp said.

Gregor's fingers trembled slightly as he pulled a small golden band out of his pocket. If Luxa was going to find him, she had better hurry. With all these soldiers present and no weapon in hand, Gregor could do nothing that wouldn't get him hurt in the process. And besides, how would it help Luxa if he maimed so many of the soldiers that would be hers one day?

He slipped the ring onto Stellovet's finger, and as she returned the deed, he looked into her eyes. In one glance Stellovet realized his memory had returned, and her eyes narrowed. No more love. Now she plainly threatened: "_Act out, and I will show no mercy._"

"_Yeah, whatever,_" Gregor thought. In the distance, he could hear more men screaming, their footsteps echoing in the corridor as they yelled about the Dread Pirate Roberts.

"There she is now," Gregor whispered to Stellovet with a smirk.

"She is dead," Stellovet hissed back. "I killed her myself."

Gregor's smirk only deepened. "Then why do you look so afraid, your highness?"

Stellovet looked at him coldly and forced him to face Temp, who continued: "Do you, Gregor the Overlander, take—?"

"Temp, please, to the very end," Stellovet said. "I must have him my husband."

"Do you, Stellovet—"

"'Man and wife', say 'man and wife'!" Stellovet hissed.

"Man and wife…" Temp said, a little lost.

"Take him to our room," Stellovet told King Vikus and Queen Susannah, gesturing to Gregor. "I will follow as soon as I see to some business." With that, she marched back down the aisle and out the door, still in her wedding dress.

Gregor stood there for a moment, alone at the altar. "…What just happened there?" he asked.

"You were married," Susannah said with a slight smile as she took him by the elbow and led him out a side door. Vikus followed with a limp, and Gregor kept pace with the old man as Susannah trotted ahead. When Vikus stumbled, Gregor held him steady, and then hugged him.

Vikus mumbled, but Gregor (unlike his fiancée-now-wife) cared enough to make out the words: "What is this for?"

"I just remembered everything," Gregor said, "right there in the wedding. I remembered how nice you've been to my family, how you've given us money and medicine and a home. So I wanted to thank you, because this is probably the last time I'm going to see you. I'm going to escape once you take me to the bedroom, and then I'll battle and probably get myself killed by Stellovet's soldiers, if not by the fall."

"I hope it goes well," Vikus mumbled, and Gregor could tell that Vikus wasn't as alert as he used to be. No wonder Stellovet had to marry so quickly. "He hugged me!" Vikus called to Susannah up ahead.

"How nice, Vikus," Susannah said, smiling at her father. "Now come. Stellovet will surely be waiting for us at this rate."

* * *

Ares, Bane, and Luxa had made it all the way into the castle by the time Solovet (along with four of the troops that had fled from the gate) found them. The trio examined the soldiers warily just as Solovet took in the scene of her living granddaughter, a white gnawer, and an abnormally large black flier that she felt sure she had seen before.

"Kill the flier and the gnawer," she told her troops before Luxa could issue an order, "but leave the girl for questioning."

The four soldiers nodded and each reached for the three, but a black blur beat them to the queen and Bane. Ares had leaped into action, slicing the necks of two of the soldiers with one claw and ramming his wing into another man so that he crumpled against the wall, breathless and broken. The fourth, Ares knocked on the head, rather like Luxa had done to Ares in the gnawers' lands. By the time the fourth soldier had fallen, Solovet realized what she was up against. One thing she'd failed to notice, however, was that her false beard had fallen off in the fight, making it obvious who she was.

Ares' eyes glinted as he stepped over the bodies and towards Solovet. "Hello. My name is Ares the flier. You have killed my bond. Prepare to die."

Solovet paused, and then did a very strange thing. She turned and ran away.

"Did you not teach me better than that, Solovet?" Luxa muttered to herself as Ares sped after her, half flying and half running. "Come, Bane, let us see if we can find my cousin Stellovet."

"Perhaps Solovet is running to Stellovet," Bane said.

"Then by all means, follow."

They left the corridor, trailing Ares at a slow pace that eventually made them lose him. Solovet goaded the lone flier through several hallways, down and down until they had reached a dungeon where Ripred used to teach Gregor to echolocate (not that Ares or Solovet knew it). Solovet then slammed the door shut, leaving herself locked in the darkness and Ares pounding on the door outside.

Ares cursed to himself after a couple of bangs on the strong wooden door, and then called so loudly that the entire corridor rang with the roar: "BANE!"

Bane and Luxa, stepping down a spiral stairway, heard the cry and lifted their heads. "ARES?" Bane called back.

"Bane, I need you to open this door!"

"I can't leave Queen Luxa!"

"Bane, she is getting away from me. Please, Bane!"

Bane looked down at Luxa, sighed, and laid her gently on the stone steps. "I'll be right back," he said, and then followed the sound of Ares' voice until he saw the black flier struggling against a giant wooden door. "Stand back!" Bane said, and ran down the corridor until his shoulder barreled into the door and forced it open.

"Thank you," Ares said breathlessly, and chased into the darkness after Solovet.

"You're welcome," Bane called into the echoing cave, and decided to shy away from it. He had a strange feeling of déjà vu, something about that room that felt like a bad memory. Stroking his tail for comfort, he turned and headed back for Luxa. Except that—and he might have found the wrong staircase, though he was fairly sure he hadn't—when he got back, she had vanished.


	16. Chapter 16

Ares closed his eyes and could see Solovet groping around in the darkness, before the light from the door made her notice his presence. Backed into a wall, Solovet felt her body for anything useful and came up with a dagger. She threw it at Ares' head, but he dodged it and came flying after her. She rolled out of the way, and when Ares landed against the stone wall, she pounced on him and—with his exposed belly facing her—recovered her dagger and stabbed it into his gut.

Ares gasped and went limp. A beam of torchlight caught the eye of a bejeweled dragon, glinting evilly at him from the handle—the handle of the dagger in his stomach.

Solovet rolled off of Ares, stepped back, and surveyed her work. Ares slumped against the wall, his words a whisper: "I am sorry, my bond…I tried…"

"I have never killed a flier with a bond," Solovet said. "Why are you so determined to have my life for the death of this bond? What have I done to earn your vengeance?"

"You sent him to his death," Ares hissed. "You followed…the prophecy…"

Solovet squinted. "I remember you now. You were Henry's bond. I will assure you now that I did not like to see my grandson off into the gnawers' lands. But it was your fault that he died. You did not catch him, as a bond would."

Ares's breath came in a shudder. He couldn't possibly be the reason his bond had died, when his bond had been so caring and had saved his life… He couldn't possibly…

A key turned. A door opened without warning, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he gazed into his memory. And drop by drop, his past returned to him until it was all he could do not to drown in the flood. He remembered, and all it took was for him to stare death in the face.

"I had two bonds," Ares said. And sure enough, it was true. He could feel the air rushing through his fur as he dived to save not his bond, but the one who would become his next bond. The boy who would save him from condemnation to the Dead Lands. "You sent my other bond—my real bond—to his death as well. You sent him to battle dressed in all black, and…and…"

"It was _you_ who died, flier," Solovet said. "Your second bond was Gregor the Overlander, who lives—the last time I saw him, that is. Stellovet has not been so kindly as of late."

"No…I could not…" Ares struggled for breath, but it was no use. Solovet stepped forth and tore her knife from Ares' gut.

"It would be a shame to lose this dagger," Solovet said, "especially on you. You mean to tell me that you have wasted a second chance at life to search for me, and yet you have failed? That is the most pathetic thing I have ever heard. How marvelous."

* * *

Gregor was left alone to his suite. Hadn't Stellovet commanded that exactly this never happen? Oh well. He was alone now, and he was going to have to get used to it until he found Luxa. He didn't bother to look around the room—he knew there would be no weapon to be had—and instead ran straight to the window.

He looked down and swallowed. That was quite a jump, and it looked even worse without a flier in sight to catch him. If he didn't break his legs in this fall, he was going to have to get up and face the soldiers Stellovet surely would have left waiting. If he defeated them (without a sword), he would have to stumble into a city where everyone would know that he was an Overlander and that Stellovet would be looking for him. The odds were extremely slim that he would ever get out of the palace, let alone find Luxa.

Well, time to get going.

If he was ever going to do anything this stupid, Gregor was glad he would get to do it for Luxa. So it was with a frenzied heart that he stepped up and sat on the ledge of the window, set his hands on the windowsill, closed his eyes, and—

"If you are looking for me, you might start with your sheets. Which, I may add, would increase the chances that you get out of your room alive, if you make them into a rope."

Gregor turned and found Luxa lying on the bed, smiling softly at him.

"Luxa!" Gregor didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for flying to the bed and kissing her (which was, admittedly, what he'd dreamed of doing for a while now). Though Luxa kissed as passionately as he did, the rest of her felt sort of dead under his arms.

"Luxa, why won't you hug me back?"

"Be gentle," she murmured back as she kissed him again.

"You're ignoring the question."

"Be gentle!" she repeated, this time not so gently.

* * *

Solovet cleaned her blade on her clothing as Ares continued to bleed. His head spun not only from the draining effort to stay alive, but also from the fact that…his bond was Gregor? His bond was an Overlander? His bond was _alive_? He had been so mistaken, had thought that because they went to battle together and he woke without a bond, his bond had died. But no, just like Ares had come back to life, so had his bond, and they had both been together for a matter of hours without even knowing it.

Well, who was to say that his bond wasn't dead? To Ares, Gregor had died, and that hurt as much as if he had actually been killed. To lose such friendship was death. And because Solovet had sent them both to battle, had forced them into something they didn't want to be a part of, she had killed them both.

Ares straightened. Memories kept returning, memories of their final battle. Bane had been there, as had Twirltongue. Bane had battled Ares and his bond. But Ares had met Bane before as an infant, and understood why Bane would battle. He was being driven by forces as evil as Solovet. So it stood to reason that—for the sake of Ares and Bane and Gregor, and every other soldier who had died—Solovet was the one to kill.

But how could he fight? His mind reverted to more recent memories, namely Ripred's training: "Why did I bother to take on such a flier?" he would grunt and groan as Ares struggled to pass his tests. "I could have taken on any human I wanted, but no, I get these giant wings with no brain! How many times do I have to tell you: what do you do when you've got a wound? When you've still got a fighting chance, if not for that one wound?"

"Cover it," Ares breathed, and so he did. With his left wing, he pressed into his stomach, and with his right, he pushed himself against the wall until he was standing up straight once more. The room—fading to black before—now turned red with adrenaline.

Solovet casually glanced up from her knife. "Are you still trying to win?"

"Hello. My name is Ares the flier. You have killed my bond. Prepare to die."

"We have discussed this, flier. Your bond is not dead."

"Hello. My name is Ares the flier. You have killed my bond. Prepare to die."

"Flier, I did nothing." Solovet took a step back as Ares advanced towards her. She threw another knife, which nicked Ares' shoulder. He didn't feel it. There were other pains to worry about. Like the pain of being separated from a friend like Gregor.

"Hello," he said, more enthusiastically this time. "My name is Ares the flier. You have killed my bond. Prepare to die!"

"Stop saying that!" Solovet yelled back. She took out her sword and thrust for his heart. She missed and sliced through a part of his wing. Ares didn't feel it. There were other things to make right. Like the Underland, who would be far better off without a ruthless leader like Solovet.

"HELLO. MY NAME IS ARES THE FLIER. YOU HAVE KILLED MY BOND. PREPARE TO DIE!"

With this, he lunged.

A few cuts to her wrist and a few blows that moved her hand allowed her grip on the sword to loosen, so Ares could knock it out with one good slap. He backed her against a stone wall, and though her hands kept groping for his left wing—which covered the wound—there was always his right to strike her when she fought back. Pretty soon, he had her pegged to the wall, and blood from his wound was trickling closer and closer to her.

"Offer me money," Ares hissed. His right claw scratched her against the cheek so she had a scar resembling Luxa's.

"It is yours."

"And power too, offer me that. An army." Another scratch, parallel to the first.

"All that I can give you."

"Offer me anything I ask for."

"Anything."

"I want my bond, you evil witch," Ares hissed and plunged his blood-stained claw into Solovet's chest. She stared at him open-mouthed. And then finally her eyes dimmed, and with an echo she collapsed to the ground.

Ares stepped back, not taking in any of the blood-streaked room or the dead body before him. He still had a bond. His bond would be in trouble, with Stellovet still on the loose. Queen Luxa would likely be part of that danger. And Bane would follow them both into the middle of trouble.

With his friends driving his thoughts, he ignored his wounds and hurried out of the cavern as quickly as he could.


	17. Chapter 17

Gregor, as much as he had been enjoying the past couple of minutes, had to pull apart from Luxa for breath. "Luxa…" he panted, "forgive me."

"What have you done now?" she asked with a glint of amusement in her eye. Gregor wished he could smile, but the weight of the circumstances dragged upon him like a chain.

"I got married to Stellovet. I was going to try and stop it, but she made everything go so fast—"

"It never went at all."

"What?"

"It never happened. Did you agree to be her husband?"

"Yeah, in the proposal."

"During the wedding, Gregor."

"No, we skipped that part."

"Then you have not married." Luxa smiled at him, and then her eyes flickered to the doorway. "Does this distress you, cousin?"

"Appearance is what counts, dear Luxa," Stellovet said from the doorway. She folded her arms, and one could actually see a small sword resting in a sheath against her hip. She eyed Gregor, who still lay on top of Luxa, who was pressed against the bed.

"Now I find myself in an interesting situation," Stellovet continued. "I might announce to Regalia that their dear prince was being unfaithful to me, and then they would be pleased of his death. Or—" she smirked "—I might kill him as planned, blame it on the gnawers, and have all of Regalia cheering for me as I avenge my ruined wedding night. I believe I prefer the latter. It ends in war."

"What do you know of war?" Luxa said.

"I know that I could lead Regalia through it with half the damage you caused. Gregor, get off of my cousin, before I kill you as well."

"Go ahead and try," Gregor snapped.

"Gregor," Luxa said quietly, and Gregor softened when he looked into her eyes. "Please stand aside. This is one battle I must fight for myself."

Gregor could see a year's worth of loss, pain, and death in Luxa's eyes, followed by several more years he hadn't been around to see. He now understood perfectly well what emotions haunted her. But he didn't need his memory to see that she was going to keep on fighting, regardless of what she had faced before. It was that tenaciousness in her eyes that made him get off the bed and stand beside the window. Luxa stayed lying still on the bed, staring at her cousin.

Stellovet pushed up the silver band on her forehead that marked her as the princess. "And what makes you think you are so suited for the crown, cousin? Remember the scarce progress Regalia has made in the past several years."

"Why are _you_ suited, if progress has not improved since you took the throne? Compare us both. I have done one thing that you will never do, and I will continue to do that thing when I win my crown: I try."

Stellovet smirked. "Touching, but whatever makes you so confident? Draw your sword," she said and followed her own order. "We fight to the death."

"No," Luxa said, "we fight to the pain."

Stellovet paused, the sword trembling slightly in her hand. "I do not believe I know such an expression."

"Allow me to explain," Luxa said, "and if you wish, I will use small words so that even you can understand, you who stupidly challenge a queen and sword champion to duel."

"You are only alive, cousin, because I want the definition of 'to the pain'. You had best stop stalling."

"'To the pain' means that the first thing you will lose will be your feet—not a large loss, considering that you hardly use them. Next your hands, a larger loss if you remember that most of your planning is a result of those tiny hands that cannot hold a sword properly. And by the way, Stellovet, tell me at any time if you doubt me. I will then explain to you that those footprints you saw at the top of the cliffs—those footprints of one who won a duel against a flier—are mine. Not only that, but in order to reach those cliffs, I had to find money for a boat, which means that I would have had to become a pirate. What else can I do in these times of suffering that you ignore? I am the Dread Pirate Roberts, Stellovet, and you had best believe me."

"You lie," Stellovet said. Her sword was at waist level, still pointing towards Luxa, but only just.

"When do I ever lie? As I was saying, the thing after your hands will be your left eye, followed by your right. I would take off your lips if I could, so that you would never again smirk, but I will have to settle for taking your tongue so that not even a stump remains. I suppose I could console myself with the fact that I will never again hear you give an order against me. Your nose will be next, if only so that your face will be ruined completely—"

"And then I imagine my ears will be next, will they? Come, Luxa, you speak too much for a master of swords—"

"Wrong! Your ears you keep, and I will tell you why. I wish you to hear every scream that echoes when you walk through the streets, every stifled gasp when you wander through the castle. Every flier's comment of 'I could never bond with that' and every gnawer's murmur of 'is that a friend or enemy?' will be yours to remember forever as it echoes in your perfect ears. And that, Stellovet, is 'to the pain'. It is the one thing you fear more than death. It is where I leave you by yourself, alone in freakish misery for the rest of your long and cowardly life."

Stellovet's sword hand trembled. "I will say again, cousin: you lie."

"On this bed, perhaps, but I have never spoken a falsehood to you. It may be possible that I lie here because your torture has left me too weak to stand. But then, perhaps I have the strength after all."

Two sets of eyes widened (Stellovet's in horror, Gregor's in cheer) as Luxa slowly lifted herself directly from the bed and into a standing position. Her hand clenched her sword, whose handle fit like a glove in her hand, and dramatically she withdrew it and set it with dead accuracy to the point between her cousin's eyes.

"Drop. Your. Sword."

Stellovet's breath caught in her lungs, and she appeared drawn between fleeing, crying for help, and fainting. Her sword, forgotten long ago, fell from her slackened grip with a clang against the stone floor.

"Tie her up," Luxa said to Gregor as if it was a suggestion. Gregor took a thin sheet and set about tying his "wife" to a chair in a corner.

"I was not afraid," Stellovet said rather weakly. "I know that there will be men—soldiers—coming for me very soon."

"And you believe you will make a good queen," Luxa scoffed. "Please save me the headache, I have enough of one from standing up. Gregor, is she tied?"

"All set," Gregor said. Luxa gave one curt nod, and then her knees crumpled underneath her as if on cue. Gregor dove for her before she hit the ground, and when he caught her bridal-style, she offered him a weary smile before leaning her head against his chest.

"I knew it!" Stellovet squealed from her chair in the corner. "You have lied, Luxa! You have no strength at all! I could have defeated you!"

"When did I ever say that I was strong enough to fight?" Luxa said. "Honestly, cousin, I have saved us. Imagine how embarrassing it would have been for me to lose to you, or—more likely—how embarrassing it would have been for you to die after entertaining the thought of battling me."

"Regardless, the winner would have lived quite happily," Stellovet grumbled.

It was at about this time that Ares limped in, nursing a deep wound in his gut and never looking more urgent. He glanced once—twice—entered the room and took in the scene: the princess tied in the corner, the woman in black in an Overlander's arms, and his bond smiling at him as if he had just seen light for the first time.

"Gregor!" Ares breathed, at the same time as Gregor's cry of "Ares!"

"You remember?" Luxa asked them both. They nodded simultaneously and grinned at each other. Were it not for Luxa lying limply between them, there likely would have been an embrace. But for the moment, all the bonds could do was look the other over, noting the changes and looking for traces of who the other used to be. Until Luxa interrupted: "Have either of you seen Bane?"

Ares pulled away from the gaze of his bond. "I thought he was with you."

"I went on by myself," Luxa said. "Did you at least win your battle?"

"I did. Although perhaps I should have considered sparing General Solovet, if only because she helped me remember my bond at all."

Stellovet turned quite pale upon hearing that her grandmother—her guardian—had been killed. All escape attempts she'd been making ceased.

"That's right, you'd better be good," Gregor told her. "After everything you put Luxa through, you're lucky she doesn't order you executed."

"May I do the honors?" Ares asked, looking over her as one might a piece of dung.

"Thank you, but no," Luxa said. "My cousin should live a long time with her cowardice. It seems only fitting."

"Ares!" echoed from the hallway. "Ares, where are you? I don't think I've ever been here before, and I need to find you. Please, Ares!"

"I am here, Bane!" Ares stuck his head out into the hallway and flagged him down tentatively, keeping one wing still over his wound. Bane appeared in the doorway, smiling wildly and escorting with him a tall boy in his early teenage years (the oddest Underlander Gregor had ever seen, with green eyes, black hair, and the standard see-through skin) along with two fliers not quite as muscled as Ares.

"You wouldn't believe what happened," Bane said. "I went searching for Queen Luxa after she disappeared to find the Overlander—hi again, Overlander—and this young man flew by the castle and called out to me, 'Is our master the Dread Pirate Roberts within this castle?' And he wasn't at all frightened of me, Ares! Even though my pelt is white! I told him I'd pretended to be Roberts, but I could take him to the real one. So I began to search for you, thinking she was with you, and all the time this man and these two fliers were following me, hoping we would run into each other." Bane paused a moment. "I think we just did."

"You have done very well, Bane," Luxa said with a smile to the white gnawer and to the young man beside him.

The young man swept a bow and looked at Luxa with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Is it now safe to call you 'your majesty', Luxa?"

"We have only a few things more to take care of, Hazard," Luxa said. "And here they come. Come in and make some room, please. There is space by the window."

Hazard and the two fliers that accompanied him edged to the other side of the bed as three soldiers, swords out, ran into the commotion. Their eyes went to the tied up princess, and then to the weak girl in Gregor's arms.

"What…what has happened here?" the soldier in the center said.

"What has happened is of no importance," Luxa said, "but the result is hugely so, and the result is that I am the queen once more, unless my cousin has anything to say about it."

"Untie me this instant!" Stellovet shrieked at the men. "What do you do simply standing there? Untie your princess!"

The two men flanking the first soldier looked to their leader. The soldier who had first spoken shrugged and sent the men to untie Stellovet. Gregor stepped between them, Luxa still in his arms.

"Don't even think about it," Gregor growled.

"But…she is the princess, you understand," the first soldier said, "and we must—"

"So?" Gregor interrupted. "So what if she's a princess? Because I…_I'm_ the KING." He drew out the word for emphasis, looking them squarely in the eye. Luxa examined them rather patiently as the first soldier paused, sheathed his sword, and kneeled. The other two soldiers followed, much to Stellovet's disgrace.

"Your majesty, forgive us for our transgression. What may we do to regain your favor?" the first soldier mumbled, head bowed in respect.

"I want my bond to be taken to the hospital," Gregor said, nodding towards Ares. "I want 'Princess' Stellovet to be returned to her chambers under lock and key until we can figure out what to do with her. I want Bane, Hazard, and the fliers that came with them to be escorted to the wedding feast and treated like honored guests, and I want to see King Vikus and Queen Susannah the minute it's over. And I want a moment alone with the Luxa, the rightful queen."

The soldiers bowed, made their apologies again, and carried Stellovet off, chair and all. They also offered to carry Ares, but he refused and limped behind them. Bane followed his friend worriedly, and Hazard made his excuses to fetch the other rebel fliers that hid in Regalia, so they could all go to the feast. So with a couple of sentences and thirty seconds of shuffling, Gregor had gotten more done as himself than he had ever gotten done as Stellovet's fiancé.

"You are rather demanding today, are you not?" Luxa said from his arms. Her eyes sparkled.

"What can I say? It's the first time I ever got to be the king. I may as well make the most of it." Gregor smiled at Luxa, set her down gently on the bed, and turned to leave.

* * *

The Writer tapered off from her reading.

"What?" the Reader asked.

"It's that romance again. You know how it goes with me. Leaves me like leaving a burning building?"

"Yeah, but…" The Reader sighed. "You don't have to read it if you don't want to. But I'd really like to see you try."

The Reader expected the Writer to shake her head and end the story. On the contrary, she paused for a moment and then smiled.

"I'll try."

* * *

"You intend to leave me after you have demanded a moment alone?" Luxa said. Gregor heard the pang in her voice and turned back to face her.

"If there's one thing I learned around here, it's that there's always a lot to do," he said quietly. "I'll take care of it for you, for once."

Luxa opened her mouth stubbornly, on the verge of rejecting his idea and rebuking his nerve. But then she stopped. She'd seen a change in him, just like Gregor had seen a change in her. Gregor had matured and had grown to care enough about the Underland (having learned about it twice), enough that he wanted to stay. Not to run away, but to stay and help it keep its balance. She was going to have to step aside sometimes, in order to let him to do that. After all, some things meant more than others.

"As you wish," she murmured as he headed for the door.

But then, some things triumph over all.

Gregor, having heard those three words, turned and flew to her as if she had just said "I love you". In their secret language, after all, she had. Sweeping her up from the bed and into his arms once more, he embraced her, breathing in the sweet scent that he'd missed in all the years he'd spent without her. She found strength to wrap her arms around his neck, taking in the brown eyes that had haunted her every night since she had first seen them. And, as they normally do, such intimate actions lead to more. In this case, their lips came together in a sweet reunion.

In Overland and Underland alike, there were only five kisses that were considered "the best": for their joy, for their passion, for their love. This kiss left them all behind.

* * *

"'The End'," the Writer said.

The Reader sat in silence for a moment, as the Writer took a breath and reread her last words. It was always hard for her to end a piece.

"So…that's it?" the Reader asked. "No bonus, no epilogue, no summary of what happened after?"

"Certainly I could give it to you," the Writer said quietly. "But that would defeat the point. They're together now, finally. They know they're going to rule. And I hope I've made it clear that they love each other enough to marry."

"But is Ares going to be okay? Is Bane ever going to remember everything? And what about Ripred and Twitchtip? And—come on, at least tell me how they're going to punish Stellovet!"

"Are you saying you didn't like my ending?"

The Reader paused in thought. "…No. It was pretty good."

The Writer, having got what she wanted, nodded, closed her laptop, and stood to leave the room.

"Writer?" the Reader asked.

"Yes?"

"…If I reviewed, could that be my way of thanking you?"

The Writer paused, contemplating this, and then the left corner of her mouth turned up in a quiet grin. "As you wish."


End file.
